StarFox: Détente
by Kit-Karamak
Summary: Published 2006. StarFox follows Andross through a jump gate to an unknown destination. They learn of his plans to invade a defenseless world and use its population as laborers and soldiers. The team sets up camp despite the paranoid government's fear of first contact.
1. Chapter 1 And 2

MESSAGE WRITTEN IN 2010: Yes, I've picked this story back up and I started getting back into it. Really, I've read so many stories like this that were REALLY weird, especially the ones where the author inserts themselves into it... and I was like, "Huh?!" So... I've decided to take this story as SERIOUSLY AS POSSIBLE to create a sense of REALISM and such. As I got back into the storyline, I realized it is NOT an easy story to write properly. SO! A ALOT of RESEARCH is involved on my end to ensure that the details are as accurate as humanly possible! You'll see what it's about as you get into the storyline. LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! I recycled this story from a handwritten binder version that I wrote as a 14 year old back in 1994. This re-write is heavily modified because, let's face it, Krystal didn't exist back then. At any rate, I hope you enjoy the story.

DISCLAIMER: this story is for entertainment purposes only. All intellectual properties (copyright names, objects and places) are trademark of Nintendo.

Don't worry, I'm not giving up on my other stories. I'm doing things when I'm in the mood for them. ;) This story might get a little weird, but it's going to stay true to the StarFox personalities EVEN THOUGH everything is… well, you'll see. This story arc happens a few months after the Aparoid bit but will bare no semblances to my other stories or the Reflections Series. Enjoy.

* * *

**STARFOX - Detente**

C-1 Setting The Stage For Disaster

"Tell me you're nearly finished," sneered Andross Oikonny. His eyes slid from the technician to the carbon tube across the lab. Inside, the frozen expression of his nephew made him shudder. It seemed as though the boy was his personal ward. Every time he cried for help, Andross felt awkwardly compelled to save the fool. He clenched his teeth and narrowed his gaze.

Andrew's defeat to an Aparoid attack was no different. However, the boy would stay in suspended animation until Andross could figure out what to do with him. Lylat was obviously too difficult of an objective for Andrew to learn on. The dictator's eyes returned to the tech, Specialist Johansson. A gun was placed against the backside of the marmoset's ear.

"I need men who work well under stress. Can you manage to prove yourself?" Andross said in a calm voice. The safety was flipped to the 'off' position and it served as the metaphorical cocking of a hammer, to add drama. The aging Ape placed his fingertip on the trigger, pressing it in. A beam began to charge at the front of the barrel, the particle build up creating a grand light display.

"Ten seconds," Oikonny whispered. He began counting aloud. By the time he got to 'four', the computer terminal fluttered to life with green indicators across the board. "Excellent." Oikonny lowered the weapon, releasing the heavy discharge into the nearest alarm terminal. Not that it was going off, but now that the terminal was destroyed, it wouldn't become an issue later, either.

"Are the coordinates correct?" he asked.

"Yes, _Emperor_; they're set, Sir!" the man cried, scurrying away from his insane leader.

"I told you not to call me that, anymore. I don't even want people to know I'm alive, so shut your mouth," The elder Oikonny snapped. He pushed the blaster back into the thigh holster, looking back to the computer system. "You know, I built the grandfather model that this stupid contraption replaced. Tell me why using it is beyond my ability, Mister Johansson?"

The Specialist balked for a moment. After a short pause, he replied, "Because Corneria has changed the operating system so dramatically that you're simply not familiar with it? No one has any doubts in your genius, Mister Oikonny."

"That's why I like you, Specialist," Andross mused softly, turning to the display. He punched in a few numbers then reached into the technician's backpack, pulling out an explosive pack. Andross placed the magnetic charge on the side of the computer terminal, pointing to it. "Set it up for ten minutes and meet me on the bridge of the Core Base with Andrew's body." With that, the Doctor walked out of the control room and headed for the shuttle bay.

Bodies littered the floors. Cornerian scientists and security details, it was a mishmash of different uniforms, but clothes meant nothing to the dead. Several special-ops men from the Venom military filed into line as Andross walked passed. They stepped into the Hanger, heading for the lone shuttle. Beyond, the hanger doors were blown apart and the thick blue emergency force-field that took their place was wavering.

"We don't have long, get aboard," Andross ordered. The men filed into the shuttle; the pilot quickly fired up the engines and they waited for his next command. Specialist Johansson dashed through the doors pushing a dolly with the metal case holding Andrew, heading for the shuttle. He gave Andross a quick 'thumbs up,' before boarding the shuttle as well.

Doctor Oikonny turned to face a camera that was mounted on the ceiling and offered a sardonic grin. He lifted the blaster from its sheath and pointed the barrel at the camera, squeezing off a round. The electronic device erupted into sparks, falling to the flight deck with a dull thud.

"Get me my cane," he said to no one in general. One of the soldiers quickly walked back down the gangplank with a metal rod. There was a handle at the end, which was a perfect fit for the aging Doctor's palm. He was quick to help the Doctor up the ramp which was at a forty-five degree angle of incline. Once Andross was secured in his seat, the soldier pulled the hatch closed, locked it and the shuttle lifted from its spot on the deck.

It turned about 180 degrees and a torpedo erupted from the casing on the front end. The explosive chassis slammed into the metallic panel adjacent to the decimated bay doors. The force-field fizzled out and the hanger was consumed by the vacuum of space. It was go time.

* * *

The shuttle approached the rounded core base, which resembled a small metallic moon. A docking bay cleared the shuttle on its final approach, the proper vector numbers popped up on the dashboard and the transporter shuttered softly.

"Tractor beam is locked on," reported the pilot. The shuttle was ferried into the corebase, setting down with a gentle landing. The skids grunted under the weight and a gush of hot steam poured out through the shocks and struts built into the bottom of the craft. The hydraulic pump hissed softly and the main-bay doors shut. There was a groaning sound from outside of the craft and through the windshield, the crew could see the bay bathed in red. After a moment, the normal lighting returned.

"All right, the hanger is pressurized, go ahead," said the pilot. One of the soldiers opened the hatch and pressed a button so that the gangplank lowered to the deck. Andross was the first to depart, hobbling across the deck and heading for a nearby lift plate.

"Report to your stations, men," Andross demanded. "We'll be leaving the area in less than five minutes. Be ready."

The soldiers all cleared the deck, heading for their stations. The Doctor made his way to the bridge and smirked. He had really planned to be there by the time Specialist Johansson was finishing his work. The aging ape chuckled to himself. The kid was faster than he was given credit for, Andross thought for sure the kid and Andrew would wind up getting left behind.

Once he was on the bridge, he began giving orders. The first mate was treated as poorly as the next man; Andross didn't care about rank. Men that busted their tails were the ones he treated somewhat fairly. Specialist Johansson just received his slightest iota of respect. That was a huge leap.

"Take us through the gate," Andross commanded. The corebase began to move forward, slowly. It took complex mathematical equations through trained pilots and computers to move an entire corebase into a jump gate.

The jump gate roared to life, a massive green vortex coming to life within its circular confines. The moon-sized behemoth plunged into the wavering green field, sinking into it. Andross turned to his tactical officer and waved his paw. "Detonate the explosive," he ordered.

In the control center of the Jump gate, the magnetic device on the side of the computer terminal flashed. It pulsed with a massive electromagnetic wave then erupted in a powerful blast. It was Andross' wish to destroy all evidence of where he was going.

It was time to start a new chapter, where he would go unchallenged. He could build himself up and attack Lylat when he was better prepared. Also, he wanted a fresh, small system where he could train his Nephew properly, as the future of the Oikonny family. Lylat was too strong for the boy, yet and his Grandson, Dash Bowman, was not living up to the family prophecy of greatness.

Far ahead of him, a massive heavenly body came into view. It was a great deal like Corneria, only there were more distinctive amounts of green and brown in the land masses on the surface. To the port side of the screen, a white crater-covered ball hung in orbit. Andross narrowed his eyes but his grin grew into a devilish smile.

Success.

"I want a full report on their logistics, on their offensive capabilities and I want to know where the political power is most concentrated. Get to work," the Doctor ordered, walking to his chair at the center of the bridge and sinking into it. "Let's make it quick, I have important work waiting for me in my lab."

* * *

**"We have a red light on gate Six**, General!" The Cheetah looked up from his seat, leaning across the back rest with a frown. Pepper approached the feline, peering down at the monitor. Sure enough, there was a red light flashing by the Gate Six indication panel.

"I wonder if the Commander knows. Raise the crew on Gate Six, let's see what the issue is; I'm surprised they didn't call in with a report," Pepper said, pacing a bit. He cut his eyes to the main view screen and folded his paws behind his back. "Well? Did you hail them?"

"Affirmative, sir! There's no response, General." The Cheetah's words gave Pepper a strange feeling in his gut. He had that 'sensation of impending doom' and wondered if this was going to be something more serious than a broken communication coupling.

"Do me a favor, Major," Pepper said to the Cheetah. "I've got an odd feeling about this one. Contact StarFox and put them on stand-by. I want you to pull up the security cameras, get them on the main screen."

Within a few moments, an itemized selection of cameras came up on the main view screen. One of squares on the large monitor was displaying static, the rest of the security cameras showed the interior and exterior of the jump gate. The Major and the General both gasped at the same time as did the other half of the command center. Bodies were strewn about the hallways, none of them were moving.

"Rewind the feed. I want to know what happened before camera 'fourteen' went into static, let's start there," said Pepper. All thirty camera sections began to rewind. A thin flurry of lines passed over the remaining twenty-nine screens. The static filled monitor suddenly came to life. As it did, one of the techs slowed the rewind speed. A flash of red dissipated, disappearing into the barrel of a gun, held by someone that Pepper never thought he'd see again.

Andross Oikonny. The Doctor, in reverse motion, placed the blaster back into the holster on his thigh, his lips moved a little, apparently saying something to someone. After a moment, he pivoted on his heels in reverse. A marmoset dashed, backwards, through one of the hallways, coming from the hanger bay, in reverse. A moment after that, a group of men filed out of a shuttle that was behind him, in reverse. The group backed their way off the camera, through a hallway, appearing backwards on another camera.

As Andross walked backwards through the corridor, the soldiers broke off, coming to stand along the wall, in silence. Pepper gave a hand motion to speed up the rewind on the tape. Andross's form moved backwards through the hallway, heading into the control office, where the Marmoset had gone back to, in reverse. A few moments later, the soldiers in the corridor came into action, and bodies lifted off the floor. Blaster shots erupted from the Cornerian soldiers, being sucked into the weapons held by the Venom soldiers. The cameras continued their reverse feed.

"It's obvious that Andross stormed this base and they were caught off guard," Pepper mused softly. After a moment, he turned back to the Cheetah with a sigh. "Is Fox on the line, yet?"

"Aye, Sir! He's on line two, holding fast, General!" The Cheetah waited for the command before opening the channel. A holographic unit in the middle of the room fluttered to life, displaying the holographic upper body of Fox McCloud. A flutter of static reception caused the body to digress into textureless polygons before the clear, distinctive image returned. After a moment, General Pepper sunk into a chair, facing the holo-emitter.

"How soon can you have your team ready? I've got some shocking news for you; are ya sitting down, Fox?"

* * *

**c2**

* * *

C-2 Ominous Feeling

**Fox McCloud** mashed his finger on a button. The chair he was sitting in shuttered and the laptop armrest began to retract, but it got stuck half way through its designated pattern movement. "General, the new GreatFox is hardly in any shape to take on Andross. It's problem after problem! Are you _SURE_ you saw him?"

"With my own eyes, Fox," General said from his floating position in the center of the bridge. Fox dropped his head, covering his face with his paws, trying to keep from growling. He tried so hard to avenge his family and he couldn't even manage it.

"Do you know what he's up to?" Fox asked, his words half muffled.

"He attempted to destroy a computer terminal in the Jump Gate located where Bolse Defense used to be. Luckily, he misjudged the durability of our black-box hard drive system, which doesn't use microchips or magnetic fields to write its information. He jumped _out_ of the Lylat System about twenty minutes ago, to coordinates that are off of our charts."

"My ship is brand new. We haven't worked out all the kinks yet," Fox repeated, sourly. "She's not ready to go to war with Andross, Sir. Are you _sure_ it wasn't Andrew?"

"I know who I saw, Fox," Pepper said with an equally sour tone of voice. Krystal approached Fox from behind and whispered into his ear. The General raised his brows then added, "Believe me now?"

"Uhm," Fox blinked, placing his left paw behind his head, scritching at the nape of his neck. "Y-yeah, she said you feel there's absolutely no mistake in what you saw. All right, we'll head out there and look around the Jump Gate, but I'm not ready to chase after him until GreatFox-A is ready for combat, General."

The hefty hound smirked. "Why, Fox! I've never known you to back down from a fight, especially against Andross!" Pepper seemed to be chiding the pilot in a way.

"General, I want to drop kick Andross... personally. You have no idea how bad I want to stomp his butt," Fox said, shaking his head, "But our new gear hasn't even been tested yet. We've got problems with every door hinge, with every mechanical joint we come across. Slippy is a one man miracle mechanic, but even he can't get us ready by himself."

"I'll make a deal with you," General Pepper said, reaching to tap his chin slightly. "I'll send you our Research and Development Director to help get your ship ready. I want you to find out where he went and follow him. If you need to hang back while you get a plan together, fine. I just want you to tail him before he causes a new problem. Name your price."

"Name our _price_?" Fox half-laughed out the question; his words were still partially muffled from between the furry fingers of his paws.

"Be reasonable, Fox," Pepper reminded.

McCloud thought for a moment then nodded in a confirming manner. "You send us Beltino and I'll send you my price. Take your time to think the amount over and when Beltino gets here, you give me your reply. Have him meet us outside the Bolse Jump Gate," Fox kind of felt like he was getting a deal here. His ship would be readied in record time and he was getting the metaphorical 'blank check'. He wasn't necessarily giddy, just interested in business, again. His paws slid down beneath his chin and he rested his head upon them.

"He's on his way. I'll contact you in twenty-four hours," Pepper said, adding, "Feel free to investigate the Jump gate, anything you may learn might help guide you in coming up with a plan to stop Doctor Oikonny."

"What are you _not_ telling us?" Krystal blurted out, causing Fox to blink.

"Well," Pepper frowned. "Andross left the Jump Gate full of bodies. The other thing is, we believe he's got a fully operational corebase. We only saw a brief hint of it, as it disappeared into the jump gate, on an exterior camera, but it looks big."

"Great," Fox said, lifting his head from his paws with an awkward chuckle.

"No problem, General," said Slippy, approaching Fox on the other side of his seat. "You called the pro's, we'll have Andross gift wrapped and delivered in no time."

Krystal cut her gaze to Slippy and grinned slightly. "I suggest we hurry. There's much to learn before Beltino shows up."

"I guess so," Fox muttered softly. "All right, Slippy. Take us out to Bolse. Falco," said the vulpine, turning to his right hand pilot. "Meet me in the briefing room with Peppy. I want to see who's boarding this thing and who's staying."

"Playing the 'draw straws' game again, Foxie?" Falco said, tucking a pair of shades down over his beak. "Sure, McCloud, I'll see you there. Hey, Gramps," Falco said, directing his last statement towards Pepper, passing the Holographic unit. He opened the doors to leave the bridge but it wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought.

The doors slid half way open, the snapped shut once more. Falco forced the doors apart and began to climb through them, but they snapped shut on his jacket before he could get all the way through. McCloud and Krystal turned to watch the piece of denim between the doors slid up and back down along the seam where the doors came together.

After a moment, the fabric began to grow smaller. On the other side, Falco tugged his jacket until it was freed, cursing the ship for being rapidly replaced by half-arsed mechanics.

"I see what you mean," Pepper mused, turning his gaze back to Fox. "Should I send a small team of maintenance men with Beltino?"

"We only have so many guest rooms, General," Fox said, shaking his head. "Just send Slippy's dad. We'll make due. With your credit and our fee, we'll buy our own corebase and trade this thing in," McCloud joked, closing the channel. He turned to Slippy and Krystal, clapping his paws together. "All right! You heard the man, we're on the clock; get us to the Bolse Jump Gate! I'll be in the conference room if anyone needs me."

* * *

The GreatFox came to rest just outside of the Jump Gate in question. Scorch marks lined the outside of the hanger bay, the doors had been eviscerated. Slippy was able to bring GreatFox in docking range of the Jump Gate station, setting up the tractor moorings. Once the laser-guided clamps were attached, he had ROB help him in setting up the docking tube.

They kept their fingers crossed, until it was successfully completed. After that, Slippy sent Krystal to the Conference Room to let the team know that they were ready to board the station.

It had been two hours since Andross' attack and the stench of death was growing in the hallways of the station. Once the team was assembled, it was determined that Fox and Krystal would go and recover anything they could manage. Slippy would wait on standby incase his technical expertise became required for the mission.

Falco was to stay on GreatFox just incase he had to launch to provide fighter cover for any reason. The vulpine team walked through the large docking tube, using a special tool to open the emergency maintenance hatch on the exterior of the Jump Gate Station.

Once it was open, Fox stepped into the main corridor, wincing at the horrendous smell of death. Fox frowned thoughtfully, casting his gaze over the piles of deceased soldiers. He pulled up a chart of the base on his arm gauntlet then punched in a command on the buttons to label the room, on the computerized map. "This will be called the Omega Room. Let's go," he said. They left behind the sad swan song of post mortality, heading up the hallway.

After a moment, Krystal paused. She stopped dead in her tracks, reaching her paws to either side of her head. "Someone's here, alive."

"You sure?" asked McCloud, reaching for the blaster on his hip.

She reached her paw outwards, to dissuade him from drawing the weapon. "That won't be necessary," Krystal replied, trying to focus. "He or she is near; I can't tell more than that. They're terrified, it's such a strong emotion that I can't sense much more."

"You can't? W-why not?" Fox tilted his head, releasing the butt of the pistol.

Krystal frowned. She'd never been questioned by Fox before now. "It's like trying to hear a single subtle instrument in the middle of a full concert. Only the most trained ear can pick it out, but even they have a difficult time trying to hear if it's perfectly in tune… or, conversely, it's only a hair flat."

"...Oh. I'm, I'm sorry, Krystal. I didn't mean to sound like I didn't believe you, I just don't understand how telepathy works to begin with," Fox admitted. She could sense the heartfelt apology in his words and she smiled softly, patting his cheek.

"This way, Fox." She headed down an intersecting hallway. The closer they got to this person, the more Krystal increased her pace. By the end of the corridor, she was in a full sprint, heading into the next section. She suddenly skidded to a halt, looking straight up. A vent shaft was above her head. Three out of four bolts were in the corners of the register. She lifted her right arm, pointing. "They're in there. I think it's a female."

"Great," Fox said, leaping upwards. He wrapped his fingers around the vented slats in the register, then shook his body hard from left to right, trying to loosen the metallic vent cover. "C'mon, you!" he muttered under his breath, trying to rip the metal vent face out of the ceiling. After a moment, the bolts became stripped enough that the register face came free of its place in the ceiling.

Fox suddenly felt weightless, plummeting back to the floor. The metal vent came with him and above that, was a female husky-mixed-greyhound, wearing a science uniform. She landed unceremoniously upon McCloud, leaving Krystal to gasp in surprise.

A bit dazed, Fox groaned. He was sandwiched between the woman and the deck, feeling easily as flat as a crape. The canid woman tried to stand up so that she could run but it was obvious she was as dazed as McCloud, beneath her. Krystal offered a paw to the girl, helping her to her feet, helping to put her at ease.

"I can't believe you're the only one left," Krystal said in a soft, nurturing tone. The two girls spoke for a moment, letting the canine get her bearings and shake off the loss of equilibrium. After she realized she wasn't in any danger, she helped Krystal to pull Fox to his feet.

The resilient vulpine managed not to break any ribs or joints from being flattened by a falling person. The hybrid husky-mixed-greyhound wrapped her arms around her waist, as if she were cold, looking about the area nervously. She half-pivoted on one foot, half-pacing from nerves.

"What happened here?" Fox was finally able to ask, tugging at his shirt to free it from wrinkles.

"They slaughtered the security and executed the science staff," said the girl. "Who are you two?"

"This is Krystal and I'm Fox McCloud of the StarFox Mercenary squadron," H=he replied, looking back to Krystal to check her expression. He'd learned to steal a glance at Krystal to see if she was sensing anything during a conversation with someone he didn't know. It was a reflexive action by now.

"I've... heard of them. So you're StarFox? I'm Anne," she said, extending a paw to Fox.

"Well no, my team is StarFox. As for me, personally? I'm just Fox McCloud," he replied, shaking her paw. He got that a lot. For some reason, there were a ton of people out there that somehow thought his name _was_ "Star Fox". It was an odd concept and he couldn't imagine having the first name 'Star', as it sounded as lame as could be for any guy.

"All right. So the Venom Army left?" she asked.

"They did; we're alone," Krystal replied, patting the girl on her shoulder gently. "You're safe now. We'll get you back to Corneria."

"So are you getting paid to investigate?" Anne asked, turning back to McCloud. "How much are you getting paid, Mister Star Fox?"

"Just Fox McCloud," Fox said, trying to chuckle, so he didn't show that he was getting annoyed.

"Right, Star Fox McCloud. So how much are you getting paid to investigate this place?" asked the younger female.

Fox's eyes crossed. He looked down, so that he didn't seem rude, then he took in a long, slow breath. "I don't know, yet. Can you help us find the Control Tower? We have to extract a black box from a machine, there. General Pepper wants to know what's on it."

"You guys work directly through the General, himself? That's a little high up, don't you think? Who are you guys really?" the mixed-breed asked, which caused Fox and Krystal to both drop their heads in defeat.

"I'm Fox, this is Krystal. General Pepper has asked for us to investigate," Fox simply paused, seeing the woman blatantly distracted by picking up the vent register and looking at the stripped threads on the remaining three bolts. Fox finally threw his paws up in the air. "Never mind. Which way is the main control room?"

"It's that way," she said, pointing at a sign painted on the wall, which pointed towards the main Control Room. Fox slapped himself in the forehead with his paw and groaned. He began to walk off in the direction of the control center, Krystal coming up besides him, leaving the Husky back in the hallway.

"Is it me or is she more dense than a box of rocks?" Fox grumbled.

"No, Fox," Krystal said, shaking her head. "It was a façade, she's quite intelligent. She's the _leading scientific_ _mind_ on this base," Krystal explained.

"Of course she is; she's the _only_ 'scientific mind' left on this base," Fox said in a nasty voice. "I'm sorry, I just hate when people are stupid and I hate it even more when people pretend to be stupid."

The two foxes stepped into the control room, sniffing the air. It was obvious where the incendiary device was detonated. The burn marks covered one of the computer terminals. To Fox's surprise, the terminal was easily removed from the ground and even had wheels. He motioned to Krystal to help him wind the cables around the box, then they wheeled the burnt box down the hallway.

"Please, Fox," Krystal begged, "Don't make a joke about the black box being inside of a black box," she said, referring to the burnt terminal. She sensed it was coming and asked before he could make it. Fox gave a lopsided grin and shrugged in silence. The two of them passed the hallway where they left the Anne. She was still standing where they left her.

"Are you coming?" Fox asked, jerking his head to the side, as if to motion for the lady to follow. "We'll get you back to Corneria, c'mon." With a shrug, the lady began to follow them, heading back towards the Omega Room.

As soon as the doors swung open Anne began to look pale. Fox wasn't sure if it was the smell or the visual gore. He assumed it was a little bit of both and motioned for her to step into the docking tube first. Krystal helped him lift the terminal over the wall and through the hatch, setting it down in the tube. They pushed it towards GreatFox and lifted it one more time, through the hatch, into their own ship.

No sooner did they get to the first set of double doors, did they have problems. The doors slid open, then shut before they could get through them. Fox mashed the button a few times, but the doors only opened when he held the button down. As soon as he released it, they hissed shut, slamming closed.

"This... is embarrassing." Fox rubbed his forehead with a sigh. "Remind me again: Why did we rush things and take the ship before it was finished?"

"Because you were tired of living on a Cornerian Medical Ship?" Krystal reminded him through a returned inquiry of her own.

"Yeah, guess I need to learn patience," Fox muttered. The husky-mixed-greyhound walked calmly to the button panel in the wall and reached into her pocket. She pulled a small tool out and used it to unfasten the bolts above and below the buttons.

"What're you doing?" Fox asked but he was quieted by Krystal. The telepathic vixen put a finger to her lips, signaling Fox to hush for a moment. He did so, watching the girl in action. The woman removed the panel and pulled a small green electronics board from its home, in the wall. She pulled out another small tool and hooked a wire up to a set of jumpers on the chip. With a few key strokes on her tool, she reprogrammed the doors then replaced the chip, the panel and the bolts.

With that done, the canine pushed her tools back into her pockets and walked in front of the doors. She waved her paw before the doors and they opened without pressing the button on the panel. "See?" With that, she stepped through and shrugged.

"What's going on here?" The voice belonged to Falco, who approached from the other end of the corridor. "Who's she?"

Politely, the canine announced, "I'm Anne Grey. Someone wired your door, here, to open and shut off of a button. The button is actually supposed to be a lock and unlock switch. The door is supposed to open when it detects motion. Looks like someone rushed through their job."

Falco placed his feathery fingers on either side of Anne's face, looking beyond delighted. "You can fix our doors? Are you serious? Will you _marry_ me?" he asked, looking absolutely boisterous. "Can you fix all our doors, I'll pay you; I don't care what Fox says about it."

"You guys get me home to Corneria in two hours," Anne said, stealing a furtive glance at Fox, "And I'll fix your doors, but I don't have time to do the rest. What the heck else is wrong with your ship?"

"What's not wrong with it?" Falco said, taking off down the hall. "Catch up when you can, I'll show you a few places that need serious attention," he then paused, calling back to Fox, "I don't know where you found her, but she's a God-Send!"

Krystal tilted her head, approaching Anne from her left, whispering into her ear. "From where do you know Fox?"

Anne leaned back and whispered in reply, "I'm his best friend's sister. I've been waiting to see if he would remember. Seems Falco doesn't remember either. I feel so loved." She then grinned, patting Krystal on the cheek and walked off after Falco.

"What was all that about?" Fox said, folding his arms.

"Oh Fox," Krystal said, shaking her head softly. "How could you?" She began to push the computer terminal through the hallway, heading for the bridge.

"...What? What did I do?" he asked, hurrying after her.

* * *

**x- one hour -x**

**The dull voice** of ROB called out to those on the bridge. "Incoming vessel! Beltino Toad requesting permission to land."

"Give it to him," Fox said, turning back to Krystal. He'd been trying to pry the secret out of her for over forty-five minutes now and was growing somewhat frustrated. "So Krystal, c'mon you've got to tell me what the deal behind this Anne Grey chick is. Please?"

"Anne Gray," replied ROB, "Sister of William Grey. Current residence, Katina. Current assignment, lead science technician on Bolse Jump Gate, Station 6. Current age, 24 years, 7 months. Currently engaged to Miyu Lynx of Corneria."

Fox froze. He'd forgotten that Slippy had Rob connected to the internet archives. What was more shocking was that Bill's little sister had not only grown up, but she was engaged to a fighter pilot. The question was, with a name like Miyu, was Anne's significant other male or female? Fox didn't want to ask, because it might seem rude to speculate. He simply put his paws up, defensively. "Okay, so she's my best friend's little sister. Aren't you supposed to be happy that I don't remember her?"

"Why, Fox McCloud, are you asking if I'm a jealous person?" Krystal asked, holding back her amusement, to see how he would react.

"N-no, I mean. Aw c'mon! This is what I'm talking about," Fox said, running his fingers through that cream-colored tuft of fur, between his ears. "You girls love beating up on us guys, I swear."

"Fox, relax," Krystal chided, patting the side of his face just the way Anne did to her. "And no, I do not recommend you asking her if Miyu is a boy or a girl's name. She's already insulted that you don't remember who she is. Even if you did remember your best friend's little sister, I know how your emotions towards me stand; I've no reason to be a jealous girl," the vixen said with a soft smile.

"I'd better go apologize, I'll be back shortly," Fox said, walking off the bridge. He noticed, almost immediately, that the door opened smoothly and shut behind him. Obviously Anne and Falco had already taken care of this door, which was good. Every time he came to a door that didn't work, he back tracked and found one that did, until the trail ended with Anne Grey and Falco Lombardi.

"So you're really dating another chick? That's freakin' awesome," Falco said, his voice carrying up the hallway. Fox blinked, following the audible conversation down the corridor and up the next hallway.

"Yeah, most people make a big deal over it, but it just felt right," Anne explained. "Her best friend, Fay Spaniel, is a little weird'ed out about it, but she had no complaints. She met Bill through me and they're dating, now. You'd think that Bill was the male version of Miyu and Fay, or something. Fay's a little bubblier, like that privateer you used to run with, Katherine Monroe, but you know what I mean."

"Well, it doesn't bother me," Falco said. The two were talking as if they were old buddies and Fox couldn't help but cough into his paw as he approached from around the corner.

"Hey guys," He said. "Hey, Miss Grey right? I just wanted to apologize, earlier. I knew your face, it was familiar and all, but I just didn't know where I knew it from... my fault. You're Bill's little sister right?"

"Hey, score a point for McCloud," she replied. "Would have been ten if you got it an hour ago, but that's no big deal." She offered her paw and McCloud shook it firmly.

He then offered a pleasant smile and nodded, "I've got to go and meet up with Beltino, who's arriving in the hanger, but we should catch up, some time before you leave, eh?"

"I'm out of here, in an hour, Fox," she said with a chuckle. "Two hours was my deal, remember? No offence to you guys, but I'm pretty sure you'll be following Andross. I don't want to be part of that. Fay and Miyu might want to get in on that action, but not me."

McCloud nodded slowly. "We'll have to see. I might need more help if I do go after him. Would you ask them before we go through the Gate, tomorrow morning?" Fox asked.

"I'll see what I can find out." Anne tilted her head then shrugged, "Yeah, I'll ask them for you, but no promises."

* * *

a/n: _Okay, real simple… This stuff right here was half-written in february of 2005. The end part was written in 1994 and most of the rest of the story was written in 1994 as well. I've rewarded a _few_ things but yeah… _

_So Anne and Bill weren't the character's names back then but it really worked out well, because the male character who is never in the story is one of Fox's best friends growing up and was a dog from Corneria so… perfect. I forget his name, it was something common like Fred. XD I'm not saying fred is a stupid name for those of you named Fred who are reading my story but I just wanted something mundane in comparison to say… 'fox mccloud'. Lol At any rate, this story is already 6 chapters long, and I've never finished the re-write… I should probably do that, huh?_

_And you don't even know what the story is about yet, do ya'? xD _

_WELL YOU FIND OUT IN THE NEXT CHAPTER so... go read it!_


	2. Chapter 3 And 4

A/N: _for some reason, this pair of chapters amuses me. This world's first contact with Aliens happens with such satire and yet... just wait until the team meets their first racist alien character :-O At any rate, I'm pretty deep into a new chapter for SIMILAR PATHS TAKEN, finally. It'll be up this week as well as chapter 4 for Reflections of Peppy, Reflections of a new Generation gets a new one and The Lament Of Carmelita will have a new chapter. I'm also a few pages into 'Nothing Passed Tomorrow' but it's slow going just yet. HUGGLES! Thanks for reading! It's time to pick up the pace and introduce the alien characters to our Lylat Heroes. Oh yeah, you know you can't wait. xD Maybe I can have the first six chapters posted by the end of 2006. This year is going by SO FAST at this point. YAY 2006! I wonder if I'll have a million dollars by the year this story is supposed to take place? (It takes place four years from now, heh). _

_

* * *

_

c-3 The Gang's All Here

**Sure enough**, Fay and Miyu were delighted to join. Anne exchanged a grin with her mate, over the communicator. Miyu asked her lover to join the group but Anne expressed her desire to sit this mission out. After all, she would need to do interviews for a new science team to repair the damage done to the Jump Gate. If StarFox wanted to come back from wherever they were going, in pursuit of Andross, it was obvious that she had a good deal of work ahead of her.

It was decided that Anne would take Beltino's transporter back to Corneria while Fay and Miyu would be bringing Arwing-converted bombers. Anne had finally left the new GreatFox by the time Fay and Miyu arrived. The sleek Arwing Bombers had an orangish bubble on the bottom of the fuselage with a storage capacity to exceed well over a dozen nova bombs.

The slinky Lynx stepped onto the deck, and blew a kiss at Falco and Krystal. She then placed her paws on her hips. Fay was a bit bubblier, a bit like Katt Monroe. The white haired canine, half poodle and half spaniel, fluffed her left ear and folded her arms.

Fox approached them, offering a paw to each girl and making introductions. Unfortunately, he also had to warn them about the ship not yet being in 100 percent operating order. Once the team was assembled, Fox set up designated rooms, but the guest quarters were few and far between. In the end, it was decided that certain team members would become roommates until the situation was over.

Peppy and Beltino volunteered to share a room together, since they were the oldest. Falco and Slippy drew straws and wound up as roommates. Fay thought it best to stay with Miyu because she knew that Miyu would behave around her best friend and might not around anyone else. That left Fox and Krystal.

They had managed to squeeze 8 pilots into four rooms, due to the fact that both of the actual guest rooms were gutted. No bed, no furnishings, the bathrooms weren't even finished. Fox was a little weary of the idea, but Krystal assured him that it would be fine, so long as they sectioned off the bedroom. Fox opted to take the living room sofa bed and the issue was settled.

Each set of quarters had its own living room with a sofa bed. The issue was easy to resolve, it's just that Fox wasn't used to such living conditions. Not that he was going to complain, he was just afraid their relationship might begin to go a little too fast.

Once everything was settled, the entire group reconvened on the bridge, piling up in front of the holo-emitter. Fox opened the channel and Pepper stepped into view. He glanced around at the group and blinked twice.

"Six Pilots, Fox?" It was all Pepper could say, just flabbergasted. "I see Beltino arrived, how was your trip?"

"Good, Sir." Beltino's reply was quick and simple.

"Well, it appears you have enough pilots for this mission, but it's going to be a little weirder than anticipated, so your fee has been approved and ancillary bonuses will apply," Pepper said. Fox's eyes widened. "Andross is possibly setting up a base of operations in this new system. We need to learn what we can and ensure that Andross is not doing to _this_ system what he did to _Venom_. Slave Labor is against our Federal System-wide Laws, now. Andross is _our_ responsibility, outside of Lylat."

Miyu, the tomboy, spoke up, "What you're saying, General, is you don't want him to build up a huge army with the help of this other system, so you wanna shut down his operations before it gets off the ground."

"Miss Lynx, if you please? Thank you," Pepper said, cuing her to get quiet. "All right, we've ascertained that this system has a healthy Solar Star, nearly 10 planetary units, an asteroid belt and most notably, the third planet from the Star is populated."

Beltino was the next to speak out. "How did you acquire this information, General?" Mister Toad asked, curious.

"We took the figures included in Slippy's report an hour ago, and programmed our closest gate to those coordinates, then sent a probe. When it returned after a ten minute tour, we amassed as much general data as possible. We only know the third planet is populated because it has artificial satellites in orbit. Quite a few of them, actually."

"How advanced do they look, from your little glance?" Fox asked.

"Advanced enough to put Satellites into orbit, but it doesn't appear that they have much more. I wouldn't put them beyond having been able to break the sound barrier, possibly a little further."

"Now that's sad," Falco mused, getting a slight elbow from Miyu. He chuckled, but remained quiet, folding his arms.

Pepper shook his head, "We don't want to hand Andross an easy target. The planet holds between 5 and 7 _billion_ beings, all of which are possible slave labor candidates in helping to build him a new Venom-like headquarters.

"There's really no time to lose. You have permission to begin your trek, McCloud. You're responsible for those two pilots. Fay and Miyu are both _suspended_ from a stunt I'd rather _not_ talk about. But they're still military. Girls," He said, now addressing the poodle and lynx. "Behavior. I don't want to hear about you pulling _any_ stunts, the likes of which I read about in last month's report. If that happens again, I'll demote Fay and discharge Miyu. I'm _not_ kidding." After a moment of pause, he glanced back at Fox. "God speed, McCloud."

Pepper's image faded into darkness and the entire crew turned to face Fay and Miyu. Krystal was trying to read the answer from their minds but both of them were locked up tighter than a vice.

Fox raised his brow, trying to change the subject to allow Miyu and Fay some measure of comfort. "I thought he said they only knew the planet was populated due to how many satellites were orbiting the planet? Then he suddenly had numbers on their population? That doesn't make sense."

"Well?" Falco was the first to ask.

"What?" Miyu became the first to answer.

"Did it have something to do with Anne?" Falco asked.

"God," Miyu snapped, shaking her head. "Corneria has become the biggest Liberalist Planet in existence; do you _really_ think they care about gays in the goddamn military? They're _proud_ of it," She replied, ears flat.

Falco held his feathery fingers up, defensively. Changing his outlook on the situation and wanting to make sure he was taking in good pilots, Fox was the next to try and get it out of them, "Look. I want to make sure I can trust my pilots. I respect that you've been grounded. That's fine! In fact, it scores bonus points with me. All I want to know is _WHY_, so I can make good leadership calls. If you would prefer to talk about it in private, that's fine, too."

"No, I'm kinda proud of what we did," Miyu said with a chuckle. "We accepted a contract to fly an Escort Mission for money. We disappeared in the middle of _our_ patrol shift to run the escort and… wouldn't you know? The patrol never happened. I guess I'm a mercenary at heart; I did it for the money."

The poodle grinned inwardly. "Our Commanding officer was a real bastard about the whole thing," Fay replied, picking up where Lynx left off. "Then, we're told to do a Recon mission, so we land on this capital ship and wait. Minutes turned into an hour. The hour turned into several. Finally, Miyu and I decided, 'screw it; we were going to change the rules.' It became a sneaking mission but then we leveled the attackers. Corneria couldn't start an investigation, because the Venom Terrorists were all dead.

"The Commander was so pissed off that we disobeyed orders twice in a row, that he had us grounded for three weeks. That's why we were so quick to jump on the possibility of flying. We've been suspended without pay for the next three weeks," Fay explained. "…which just so happened to have started yesterday."

McCloud tilted his head. "Can I count on you guys to follow my lead? I promise we'll blow stuff up, I just need you to sit tight, if I ask you to sit tight," Fox said, folding his arms and facing the girls.

"We can manage, Fox. We're talking about Venom Terrorists; we were stowed away, sitting for hours on their ship," Miyu said. "If we were caught or captured because Corneria was taking its sweet time in letting us know what our next order was, then we'd have been screwed. Investigation or not, we're soldiers, not cops. We blow up enemy soldiers, not sit on steak outs in the heart of the enemy's cargo hold."

"Fair enough," Fox replied, motioning to the rest of the bridge. "Everyone, assume your positions, we're going to go after Andross. No messing around, here."

The "GreatFox – A" turned about, facing the gate directly. Slippy used what remained of the computer terminal found on the jump-gate station, and set up a link to the control tower computers on the station. After a few moments, Slippy managed to open the gate from the established link on the bridge of GreatFox and a pool of green fluttered to life inside the metallic circle.

"All right, let's go get'em. Take us in, Slip." Fox leaned back in his chair, Krystal sat besides him. As the ship passed through the gate, Krystal thought of something to put her mind at ease from the stretch jump into the next system. All the distant voices from Lylat disappeared, replaced by new distant voices, primitive in thought patterns.

As GreatFox appeared at its destination, the ship shuttered hard, buckling under some sort of collision. Fox blinked, standing up in front of his chair. "Did we hit something? Give me a status report; put the external view on the main screen," he said, turning to Slippy.

A rear shot from a camera mounted on one of the starboard wing tips displayed an artificial satellite that had collided with the side of GreatFox upon passing through the gate. The Satellite was destroyed, having shattered against the armor plated hull. Fox could only groan.

"Well, let's look at the bright site," he muttered, turning to Krystal to see if she could offer one. She was usually the optimist but for now she simply shrugged, thinking of what could _possibly_ be good about destroying something, which would certainly alert someone on the planet.

Fox was still waiting to receive some sort of optimistic news from her. She shrugged again. "Well, I suppose if it had the capability to take photographs, it _won't_ see us, now," She mused. Beltino approached the main screen, pointing to a section where one of the large Quadra-wings was attached to the hull.

"What's wrong, pops?" Slippy asked, moving from his control terminal, to see what his old man was pointing out.

"That's got to be looked at," Beltino sighed. "I hate to say this, but we've got to set down. And furthermore, most of the planets in this system are inhospitable. The only one we're going to be able to breathe on is the one in front of us. And the oxygen levels are fairly low on this planet… only about 21 percent."

"How's that going to affect us?" Fox asked.

Beltino rubbed the bottom of his jaw for a moment. "You might feel a little tired until you get used to it. I'd give it a few days to adapt. We're used to 25 percent," Mister Toad said.

"Any sign of Andross in the system?" Fox muttered, walking back to his captain's chair, sitting down in it. The stupid laptop on the retractable arm began to reach about him, from a faulty sensor in the seat. McCloud shoved it back into place, causing the gears in the retractable arm to grind.

"I've got his location," Slippy said, bringing up a partitioned screen on the main viewer. "He's at the edge of the system, probably staying off of this planet's scope of sight, for now. Let's find a place to sit down on this planet, and make repairs."

Fox sighed, looking almost disgruntled. "All right, make it so. Somewhere with an extremely low population density, please. I'll leave it up to you, Slippy. Take us down and pull up the camou-tarp."

* * *

**The tiny box at the** **top** of the science section in the Gazette claimed scientists have once again spotted the tiny chunk of rock beyond Pluto that is the fabled 10th planet. The paper held by Senator-Elect John Fitzgerald was tossed, carelessly onto a desk as he walked through the Eisenhower Executive Office Building. The EEOB was a behemoth grand manor, which sat directly adjacent to the White House in Washington DC. '_The Washington Post would never dare publish such crap based on speculation,_' He thought to himself.

He gave a nod to his secretary and passed through the hallway, into his office. The door was shut behind himself and he sunk into the confines of a plush office chair, picking up the tabloids that were on his desk.

"_Planet of the Apes Real! Space Alien Gorilla meets with Ex-Communist World Leaders! Details inside!_" The paper read across the headlines. Fitzgerald tossed the paper across his desk, letting it slip off the other end, flopping unceremoniously upon the floor. It was rubbish. He gave the topic some thought, then picked up a phone, punching line 4, not realizing it was already lit up.

"...the Hubble Telescope. NASA is going to be pissed. We don't even know what hit it, Sir."

John balked, moving to re-hang up the line, but the topic was far too interesting not to listen in. So he waited, listening in on the third line.

"But does this have anything to do with that stupid bit in the National Enquirer? The Ape Alien that supposedly made an appearance in Russia yesterday?" The second voice asked.

The first one replied, "Who knows. The thing is, the Hubble fell back into the atmosphere twenty-five minutes ago." Fitzgerald had the only phone in the office where his unit kept pulling up busy lines. It made for good eavesdropping. The first voice continued. "One of my boys took a look at it and said it was rammed with excessive force. There's not much left of it," The first man said to the second.

"Jesus. All right, get Goddard Space Center on the phone. No, I want you to get in your car, drive up the B/W Parkway, and go there, yourself. They won't give you the run around in person. While you're at it, I want to get a report from the NSA. If there is someone in space, they'll be able to crack any codes from communications received. This is massive. Do _not_ let a word of this get breathed to any of those stupid magazines."

The line ended. Fitzgerald hung up the receiver, carefully, then stood up, walking around his desk and picking up the paper from the floor. This time, he took a moment to actually read it. Maybe there was something going on, bigger than he realized.

* * *

A few thousand miles west...

NORAD, Colorado.

**"There's a _what_, entering the** Earth's atmosphere?" The Commander flopped into his chair, pulling a Cigar from his chest pocket. With a cutting tool in his left hand, he snipped off the end, twirled it around and lit the flat side with a butane lighter. "An alien space craft; you sure it's not a "Russian Ape" and just in the wrong air space?" The Commander's joke was based loosely off of the same National Enquirer article that ended up on the desk, back in DC.

"The markings are not in our archive database, Commander Decker." The Intelligence officer's name was Lieutenant Jeremiah James. He was bright; he had natural code cracking abilities and was destined for a good career with NSA after his tour of duty in the military. His arms folded, gazing at Decker with a stern expression.

"All right, what'cha got Jeremy, I'm all ears," The Commander said, growing quiet. A folder of photos were placed on the table.

Jeremiah James closed his eyes and shrugged. "Wyoming. In a _huge_ state of only half a million people, they've set down in the outskirts of Niobrara County. It's only got 2 thousand people in the entire county. If that," Said Lt. James. He folded his arms, again. It was certainly not a crash site, either. The large ship sat down in the middle of the night, without anyone even seeing it. "It's 6 am, Sir. Back east, part of DC is just going to work, sitting on the Capitol Beltway; whatever. Do you want me to raise the Vice President?"

"Give me a break for a moment, I don't even know if they've landed where US 18 and US 20 meet with route 85; we could have a hundred people staring at this thing right now," Commander Decker said, shaking his head. "I need to think about this one. We don't know if they're hostile or what the status of the craft really is, so I want information first. You can send an encoded message to the Pentagon, but let them know we're going to send someone out there. I don't want the Wyoming National Guard involved unless there's a hostile action involved, so let's not jump the gun yet. I don't need some dickhead 19 year old Guardsman taking pictures with his damn cell phone camera and sending it to the press."

The Lieutenant saluted and picked up his folder, leaving the photographs, then walked out of the room. As he got to the door, Decker called out for him one more time, "Oh and Jeremy? Good job, so far. Find out if this is the reason the Hubble was destroyed. That's your next job."

The Lieutenant nodded then headed through the door, shutting it behind himself. Decker sat alone in his office, smoking his Cigar with a world of thoughts to shoulder.

* * *

**x- two hours later -x**

**8 am, Mountain time. **

"Wyoming, sir," Said the young woman on the cell phone. "Area Code first, it's 307- 555- 3702. But I'm not going to be at the hotel; just call me on my cell, you know I always answer," She said. "Sure. All right, not a problem. I'm in Cheyenne, now. I'm heading there as we speak. _Oh yeah,_ it's the Sugar Beets Capitol of the world. Yeah, I'm heading for the chopper pad, now. I'll see ya soon, Jeremy. Sure, I'll get an autograph if Elvis is on board," She added, the flipped the cell phone shut, putting it back into her pocket.

The woman, Agent Jackie Harrison, opened the door on the side of the Sikorsky Blackhawk chopper and smiled when two men reached for her hands, helping her up into the seat. There were three people necessary to fly a Black Hawk. The Crew Chief and two pilots. It lifted from the helipad, quickly gaining speed and altitude.

The ride was half an hour, out to the quiet section where the ship was rumored to have landed. She waved her hand in a circular motion and the Black Hawk began to circle the area. She ducked down, standing between the two pilot chairs, pointing through the bubble glass, down at the ground.

The Pilot gave a thumbs-up and they began to circle a small clearing surrounded by a fair amount of forest. "You guys can put it down at the edge of the clearing, but stay back as far as you can from the ship. Remember, everything you see is **_classified_**," She told them, going back to her little bench seat behind the cockpit.

The Blackhawk descended upon the field, landing at the very edge, nearest to the trees. Jackie Harrison's heart was starting to pound in her chest. This was exciting. She grabbed her gear bag and began prepping.

**x- 8:35 am, mountain time -x**

**"I thought you said** no one saw us land," Falco said, leaning against the edge of the flight deck, staring at the small air vehicle across the field. His ankles were crossed, and he was propped up on his elbow, against the blast doors at the edge of the deck. About twelve feet down was waist-high grass, where GreatFox was resting on its belly.

Slippy approached him from behind, holding the very pair of high-definition goggles that Fox had to re-purchase from Shabunga on Sauria. They were the very goggles that Fox used after losing them in a poorly placed field kit that was supposed to be beamed into Thorntail hollow. He zoomed in on the goggles, offering a slight chuckle.

"What?" Falco cocked a feathery furrowed eyebrow.

"They're furless, like me, but flat-faced like an ape," Slippy mused. "One of them is coming this way but she's having a heck of a time with the high grass."

"She?" Falco asked.

"Anything with a busty chest, alien or not, looks female to me," Slippy mused with a slight grin. "I guess we should call Fox and Krystal down here," He added.

"Yeah that would be smart," Falco said, mashing his thumb into a small box on the wall, besides where he stood. "McCloud, get down to the hanger deck, NOW. We have... visitors." He released the public announcement button then turned to Slippy and shrugged. "Something says this is going to turn into a whole mess of bullshit."

"We'll see," Slippy mused quietly. Fox and Krystal arrived with surprising haste, with Peppy in suit. The three of them approached Falco and Slippy, stopping at the edge of the deck. Krystal gasped, pointing down into the field. Peppy squinted and Fox simply groaned.

"Best behavior, everybody," Peppy said to the group, "We're representing Lylat and this is our first contact with this system, so let Fox and Krystal do the talking. Falco, try not to be a smart ass, incase they're perceptive enough to read your body language or tone… or thoughts."

"Relax, gramps," Lombardi said. "I'm not gonna say a thing; Politics get involved from this point and I don't want a part of it."

Krystal stole a glance at Fox. The lady was in shouting distance now and continued to approach. Slippy and Falco scooted away from the blast doors, giving Fox and Krystal the spot light.

"Hostile intent?" Fox asked the little blue vixen.

She shook her head, replying, "She's horribly nervous and doesn't expect to find anyone here. And yet, at the same time, she's scared that she's going to be the lone explorer who is killed by an alien ray gun and conversely she feels some what safe, knowing there's an entire National Guard platoon less then twenty-five miles away, if something goes wrong. She's asking herself if this ship crashed, but is logically realizing that there's no indication of a crash. As she gets closer," Krystal said, reading the woman like a book, "she gets more nervous. She's unarmed but she's got surveillance equipment."

"All right, she's unarmed… let's show her a bit of hospitality," Fox said, un-holstering his blaster and tossing it to Peppy. "I'm going to make a leap of faith, here," Fox said. "She doesn't even know if this _is_ or _isn't_ an unmanned ship, let's give her the first move."

* * *

X

c-4 First Contact.

**Jackie Harrison froze** in her tracks. She was less than twenty feet away when she realized that there were several upstanding animals at the edge of the large rectangular opening on the front of the ship. Her heart skipped a beat and she looked down at the emergency call box in her left hand.

It was obvious they could see her in return. They didn't yet shoot at her, so she wondered if the emergency response transponder would be necessary. The camcorder in her right hand was running and after a moment, she lifted it up, zooming in on the fuzzy crew at the edge of the opening.

"They seem to be dressed fashionably, I'm quite surprised," She noted so that only the Camcorder could hear. As she approached, the animal-like crew remained stoic, watching her approach. "They don't seem to show any hostile intent towards my approach: that's a good thing.

"Am I really going to be the first person to make first Extra Terrestrial Contact? I should have brought a camera man, this is actually history in the making," She noted aloud. Her Camcorder had a strange device attached to the top, sending the live satellite feed to her agency, back in New York. "They could have gone after Oak Ridge, Tennesee, if they really had any hostile intent, I suppose. Then again, who's to say they don't _know_ where we keep our nukes, they don't _know_ where DC is located, or what NORAD is. …Okay, I'm within speaking range, now."

Up on the edge of the flight deck, Fox turned to Falco and Slippy and said, "Do we still have the gangplank? Let's slide it down," he made a motion with his paw, which was seen by the woman down in the grass.

"It appears," She said to the camcorder, "the orange canine-looking one is giving orders of some sort. Now I see two more approaching, one ... wow... looks like an upstanding bird, walking on his talons, the other is a much shorter amphibian looking being. They seem to be... I can't make it out... Oh!" She paused in surprise, watching the ramp get manually pushed down to the grass. "They're... they're putting a ramp down. But they're not coming down to meet me... Do they want me to board their space ship?" She simply gawked, speaking to her camcorder which had been sending cellular and satellite transmission feed.

Fox, up on the edge of the deck, couldn't help but be amused. "She seems so pensive. Geeze. All right," he finally said, waving his paw at her. "C'mon, lady. ...Krystal, does she have some sort of custom, where she can't enter someone else's ship?"

"Fox," Krystal shook her head, "She's never _seen_ a ship like this before. They don't appear to have technology like this," She added, tilting her head. "Oh my... She's intelligent... I wonder why her race doesn't appear to have technology the way Lylat does…"

"Well," Peppy mused, peeking over Fox's shoulder, "Corneria made its break through in space exploration once the Government made the decision that Capitalism doesn't apply to Space Dynamics. Maybe they're still bound by prices to _build_ the technology."

Lombardi bristled with annoyance. "Let's not all jump to conclusions. Krystal's the telepathic linguist, why don't we ask her," Falco said, pushing the locking clamps into place at the top of the ramp. "All right, it's secure."

Fox made the waving gesture again, motioning for the lady to ascend the ramp. After a bit of hesitation, she began to board the ramp.

"Can you speak her language," Fox asked Krystal. She opened her mind, again, reading the woman like a book. She nodded and began her attempt at forming words that would be familiar to the woman.

"Greetings, welcome," Krystal said. The words lacked enunciation on the first try, so she said it again, and it seemed to alarm the woman.

"Jeeze Laweeze, did you tell her to drop dead?" Falco asked, shaking his head after seeing the woman on the ramp turn pale.

"No, I greeted her with a welcoming salutation. Let's see if she replies," Krystal said, then turned back to the woman, adding, "We come in... ah, '_Peace_'. You may call me Krystal."

To the slight surprise of the team, the lady found the courage to answer. "W...Welcome to the Planet Earth. My name is Jackie Harrison and I speak on behalf of my Agency, my Nation and my Planet," She said, pushing back the trepidation in her voice, now fueled by curiosity, the desire to be at the top of the list of Historical Women and the desire to get a promotion out of this, especially with no back up. "You speak English?"

Krystal shook her head slowly, "I speak through my mind, learn the vocabulary through your brain and speak it as best as I can," She replied.

"So your race is telepathic?" Agent Harrison asked. She was beyond fascinated. As she neared the top of the ramp, Fox and Peppy extended their paws to help her over the metallic lip at the top of the ramp, historically marking the first handshake with an alien being.

"No," Krystal said, "Just me. I'm not part of their race. Welcome to our home, The GreatFox Cruiser."

"Thank you," Said Harrison, allowing the rabbit and orange coyote-like being to take her hands and wrists, helping her up onto the flight deck. Her eyes raked over the fighters, the row of tanks and the way they were set up in the large flight deck, then her gaze returned to Fox and Krystal.

"This is Fox McCloud," Krystal said, motioning to the leader, "Peppy Hare," she continued, pointing to the rabbit, then to the frog and falcon, "Slippy Toad and Falco Lombardi."

"You all have the most ironic names," Jackie said, trying to keep her heart still. She was pumping with adrenaline now and it was giving her the shakes. She pushed the transponder into her pocket, then offered her hand to Krystal, then to Fox, shaking their paws respectively, then she shook with Peppy, Slippy and Falco, in the order she was introduced to them.

"There are three more of us, up on the bridge," Krystal explained. "They can't speak your language, because they're not telepathic. But Slippy could probably make a language interpreter machine. It'll take him a little time, but it shouldn't be too difficult."

"So you're the interpreter?" Harrison asked.

"For now, yeah," Krystal replied, growing used to learning the dialect and how to form the harder sounding consonant sounds. "We're stranded here for a few days, but we've come on a mission to protect your world from someone else. How does your hierarchy system work?"

The agent was trying to maintain a professional and courteous frame of mind but she was talking to intelligent, technologically advanced… animals. "We have a congress, a senate and a President with advisors in between," Jackie said, wondering where their interests lay. "But this Planet has a world leader for every recognized nation. Most of them gather to discuss business, trade, money and different things, but there is no actual leader that speaks for this whole planet," She explained.

"For all we know," Krystal mused, "you're the leader, right now. You're speaking for the planet, after all. Is there someone with whom we may speak to, about this future threat?"

"It... will take some time," Jackie said with a frown, "To get the President here, to talk to you. But this is historical; I think he'll be able to make plans to fit your time schedule. From there, you might be able to get yourselves before the UN summit group, but," Jackie shook her head softly, wondering to herself if she was telling them too much, "Let's start with the system of hierarchy. I'll see what I can do, but if you must know, our culture is a bit paranoid. They've never met aliens before, so our Government is going to want to keep this absolutely quiet until they figure out what to do about this situation."

Krystal lifted a finger, a very human gesture, then turned to speak to the crew about what the conversation consisted of.

"Oh geeze," Falco groaned, making a few complaints under his breath that the agent didn't understand. Krystal looked embarrassed, turning to face the woman to interpret.

"He says that it would only figure, that we won't be able to get any help from the people on this planet," Krystal explained, with a shrug. "Thing is, we may require some measure of help in dispatching this foe; he's a real threat."

"What about nuclear weapons? Is your technology far above that?" Jackie asked. She was half worried that the Government was going to be upset with her for basically spelling out what Earth's capabilities were for an Alien race, but something told her that they weren't here to invade. She wanted to ask all the hard questions that people of Earth would want to know.

"Nuclear?" Krystal tilted her head, asking a question to the frog before turning back to her and asking the word again.

"It's a technique of fission, whereby plutonium and uranium are shot into one another, or fission is made with hydrogen, to create an explosive force that implodes upon itself. The result is the vaporization of anything within the blast radius. A radiation spike that will vaporize organic matter," Jackie recited. It was common knowledge and Agent Harrison was smart enough to word it well. It wasn't anything an alien couldn't get off of the planetary internet if they wanted.

Krystal turned back to the frog, asking him something again, then shrugged her shoulders. "They tell me that such weaponry sounds pretty twisted. It was discovered, more than half of a century ago, that nuclear fission was used as a source of energy but it was dangerous and not as reliable as the pure fusion energy that we use today."

"Fusion, that's incredible," Harrison said quietly. "I appreciate you inviting me into your space ship, I have so many questions and I should have written them down but I didn't think I would find anyone on this ship. Do you operate around linear time?"

"Who doesn't?" Krystal chuckled. "Seconds, Minutes, Hours, is that what they're called here? They're the same. Our days are different lengths from your own, however. I sense you have 24 hours in a day?" The azure vixen inquired, garnishing that fact from the woman's mind, "Corneria is almost the same, but several planets in the Lylat System have longer or shorter days. You would be shocked to learn how close your Earth and our Corneria are alike. Would you like to see?"

The woman nodded furiously. Krystal turned to interpret to the team, reciting every spoken word. Fox gave orders to the rest of the group and they left, except for Peppy. The rabbit looked grandfatherly in a way, and was a heart-warming sight, to be sure. The three of them led the Agent through the flight deck and into an adjacent corridor. It ran up through the ship with an occasional incline until it reached the Bridge. Once there, Krystal became the translator again.

Fox moved to a computer and pulled up a picture of just Corneria on the screen, Krystal began speaking, "Our planet is nearly the same density and size as your own, although yours is far more populated and far more polluted... no offense," She said. "The air is nearly the same, the revolutions around the main star is nearly the same and the daily rotations are nearly identical, just slightly off by a _hair_." She turned back to Peppy and said something that made him chuckle.

"What ... did you tell him?" Jackie asked, looking curious but somewhat nervous.

"I told him that the word in your language, 'hair' is a homonym for his last name, 'Hare', don't worry, Miss Harrison," Krystal said with a soft smile, "We're not talking about you behind your back, you can put those worries to rest, right now."

Without warning, Jackie's cell phone went off. She reached into her pocket and Peppy seemed amused at the playful jingle the little object made. She flipped it open with her thumb, since she was still holding the camcorder in her other hand, then brought the phone to her ear.

"Harrison." She paused to listen to the speaker on the other end, "Yes, it's amazing, isn't it? No, not at all, not even slightly hostile. Yes, I'll ask about their claims. All right; yes sir. They want to know if they can actually request an audience with the President. Okay, keep me posted," She finally said, closing the cell phone and pushing it back into her pocket.

"Friends?" Krystal asked, partially amused, herself.

"All right, my co-worker says he'll go through the proper channels. They'll let us know about the President. But I can tell you right now," Harrison said, firmly, "There will be more security than anything. There will be Guards, Secret Service, Military personnel, you name it."

"If they don't point any weapons at us, we are fine with that," Krystal replied, glancing to Fox, giving a quick explanation of what's going on. McCloud replied in the language that Harrison didn't understand, then waited for Krystal to interpret. After a moment, the blue vixen turned back to the woman and added, "We have to talk about getting some sort of base camp set up. We have requests to make of your government, if they want our protection."

"I'll… see what I can do," Said Jackie, looking around the bridge for a moment. "Your control center isn't like I would have imagined. On television, we had cinema programs that were science fiction, and from what I know about our modern Space Shuttles, a cockpit is usually filled with buttons and different gadgets at every corner."

"We have the controls we need on a few consoles," Krystal replied, "The rest is just empty walls, so we decorate to make it feel more like home. You should have seen it before I joined the team. There were pictures of the crew on the walls, a jukebox, liquor cans on the floor, and boxes of left over stale food… not to mention a tacky pin-up poster of some woman." Almost immediately, Krystal's words put Jackie at nearly complete ease. These aliens were very human-like in nature.

"These boys are like regular bachelors?" Jackie asked with a slight chuckle. "I thought 'lazy men' was a human characteristic. It's kind of amusing to know men are like that in every culture."

"I suppose," Krystal tittered politely in reply. Then, with a shrug, she said, "I whipped their tails into shape. The new GreatFox has an audio center built into the walls and console, but it looks more professional, now."

"I have a chopper waiting for me," Harrison said, "But I would like to meet you again, soon. The thing is, our people are going to try and set up some sort of base of operations, where you can be hidden from the rest of the population. I hope that doesn't upset you, but the people of this planet aren't ready for visitors from space yet. The younger generation is nearly there, but middle aged and elderly people will not feel comfortable about it, yet."

"Sorry to hear that," Krystal replied. "Next time we see you, our mechanic will have an in-ear translator set up. All right?"

"Sounds wonderful," Jackie said, adding, "I'll have more people with me on my next visit. If you could, stay here until my return. It'll make things easier for you, easier for my people, we can sit down and talk about the threat in this system, in detail, and we'll work out a way for you guys to combat it, without getting the rest of Earth involved, beyond the government."

"All right, twenty-four hours, your time?" Krystal asked.

"Yes, a day would be perfect. See you then," Replied the agent. "Could someone show me back the way I came?"

Krystal spoke to Fox, then motioned for him to walk the lady back to her chopper. "I'm going to sit down and help Slippy with this translator; I've just spoken the language for the last twenty minutes, maybe I can make sure things are pronounced correctly or whatever." She turned back to Jackie and, in the broken English she'd been using thus far, said, "Fox will walk you to your chopper. I'm afraid he won't be much conversation, until Slippy is able to bridge the gap, but he'll ensure that you're safe," she said with a chuckle.

Jackie smiled in reply and offered a nod. Fox walked passed her, using his paws to motion for her to follow, staying kind. The two left the bridge and Krystal went to find Slippy. Walking through the corridor, Fox spoke casually, even though the lady would be unable to understand.

"This is the crew quarters," he said, opening the door and letting her peek in, then continuing. "Up here, we have the rec-room," He added, stepping through the sliding doors that Anne Gray had fixed earlier. Inside was a flight simulator, a Lylat version of a pinball machine, and various other games that resembled playing boards with markings unfamiliar to Agent Harrison.

Once they returned to the flight deck, he passed one of the fighters and plainly said, "Arwing." He said the word very pronounced, patting the fuselage of the fighter. Harrison repeated the word, nodding firmly. Her reply was the English word, "Fighter Jet." Fox gave a shrug and repeated it, "Fighter Jet. Arwing." He then invited her to follow, once again, using the Cornerian tongue.

They walked down the ramp and into the high grass, heading for the chopper. Both pilots and the crew chief bunched up in the window, unable to believe their eyes. A walking, talking animal. Complete with ears and tail, it was an animal, just like on the front of so many cereal boxes for kids, or so many cartoons on TV.

Agent Harrison stopped in front of the Blackhawk and turned to McCloud, offering her hand. Fox recognized the universal gesture, one which requires both parties to firmly shake one another's paw, to prove that they were not holding a weapon in their hand. The handshake was firm and fully understood. With that, Fox reached for the latch on the door, quickly figuring out that it was a lever to be pulled down.

He opened the door for her, signaling with a sweeping motion of his other paw, for her to board. Jackie raised a brow at his chivalrous manners, then boarded the chopper. Again, the pilots both reached to take her hands, helping her up into the craft, then Fox shut the door behind her. He walked back a few feet, to watch the chopper lift off.

The rotor blades at the top and one at the tail seemed like a ridiculous way to fly a machine. G-Diffusing equipment and thrusters was how he was raised, but even on his own planet, no one ever dared to dream up a machine that would hover the way a helicopter did, using a rotary propeller. He watched the Blackhawk ascend into the sky and move forward, disappearing over the trees. It was a fantastic alien machine, to him.

* * *

**x- 12 hours later, 21:00 (9:00 Post Meridian, Mountain Time.) -x**

Miyu and Fay were watching Fox and Slippy intently. They were working on soldering a plastic microchip into multiple earpieces, which Beltino had helped to design. There was one for everybody, including a special molding earpiece for Falco, Slippy and Beltino. Once they finished with the last ones, Fox handed the headsets to Miyu, Fay and put one into his own ear.

"All right, ladies. I'm going to play back an audio log from the conversation we had with that woman, this morning. Let's see if these things work," Fox said. The earpieces resembled hearing aids, each molded for a different type of ear. Miyu and Fay switched their earpieces, both looking satisfied with the comfort of the object, after the swap was made.

Slippy went to a computer terminal and began an audio playback of the conversation. To everyone's pleasant surprise, they worked well. Everything the woman said was heard as Cornerian. Even the grammar and pronunciation sounded pretty good.

"Lucky for us, this English language words things in the complex manner that we do. It used to bug me, when I was a kid," Slippy told them, "When I first heard a Venom Lizard say, 'house of red', because that was correct for them."

"Well, did you notice that lady was starting to act a little high, right before we took her home?" Fox asked. "Hmm, you were downstairs, weren't you, maybe I should ask Krys what she thought."

"She sounds a little high, on the audio tape, from the point where she's on the bridge," Slippy noted. "Why do you think that is?"

"I'm not quite sure," Fox mused. "Girls?"

"Maybe it's something in our air," Fay said, giving a shrug.

Slippy simply blinked, clapping his hands together. "When you're so bubbly, no one even realizes that you're as smart as a whip, b-but when you blurt out an answer to a question like that," He said with a measure of soft laughter, "you impress the heck out of m-me!"

"Well, shoot, I try!" Fay said, lifting her paws as if to play modest. She paused, listening to the audio conversation over the speakers then shook her head slowly. "This is fantastic. Beltino is amazing, this is in her voice, as if she were speaking Cornerian into my ear, in person!" Fay's bubbliness returned and Slippy couldn't help but chuckle about it.

"Here, Miyu and Fay, hand the rest of these out to the crew. I want them in your ears, tomorrow," Fox said, handing the surplus over. The girls took them and left the bridge. Fox then turned to Slippy and pushed his paws into his pockets. "We'll need ones for the 'Earth people', so they can understand us. Think we can do it?"

"I'll call dad. We'll have it ready by the time they get here, tomorrow morning," Slippy reported. He then gave a 'thumbs-up' and walked off the bridge. Fox looked around for a moment then sunk back into the commanding chair. The only person who wouldn't need an in-ear translation piece, was Krystal.

Speaking of the beautiful blue vixen, she came in from the door opposite of the one that Slippy left through. She approached Fox and sank down onto his lap and grinned. "Making new allies, finally defeating Andross, this should be an exciting time for you, Fox."

"Just tired, I guess. We've been working on those interpreting ear-pieces for hours," Fox said, resting his muzzle on her shoulder. "What do they call themselves again?"

"Humans," Krystal replied. "Terrains, Human Beings, Homo Sapiens. She refers to herself as all three of those things."

"That's odd. The third one sounds a little technical."

"I suppose," Krystal said with a shrug. "Human is a root word, the way they say it, for humanity, humanitarian, humane… Those words meaning the way we say kindness, benevolent, that sort of thing. They seem to think that the root of their culture is giving and kindness but their species doesn't believe it about themselves."

"That's pretty whack," Fox mused, running his paw up through the milky tuft of fur between his ears. "How does _she_ see her own race, then?"

"I'm afraid to know if she's right about how she feels about her race," Krystal said, shaking her head slowly. "They segregate their subcultures and it seems as though they can be vengeful and selfish as a whole."

"Jeeze," Fox grumbled. "Totally prehistoric," he muttered, shaking his head. "I really hope they're as intelligent as they seem. You think they're capable of space exploration?"

"Probably capable, but certainly not mature enough," Krystal said with a slight shrug and a frown. "Would it be in their best interest to ensure that we don't let them study our technology?"

"They've gotta learn it some time," Fox said. "There's no way to raise Pepper and ask him about it, so it's probably best that we show'em it's possible and let their own scientists take the dream and make it a reality. It's not like they're going to abduct Slippy and put his brain on paper. Heck, I don't understand how half of this equipment works, I just know that it does and if I have a problem," Fox chuckled, "Slippy fixes it."

"Well, perhaps we should, ah," Krystal tried not to blush, keeping a level of seriousness in her face, "Head to bed?"

"Yeah," Fox reached to scratch at the nape of his neck, nodding slightly. "That's a good idea. Wanna play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets the shower first?"

"Of course not," Krystal said, standing from his lap. "I already know who's first to shower," She replied, offering a dainty looking preen. "Lady's first." With that, she reached to pat his muzzle then walked off the bridge. Fox stood up, setting the computer to night-watch and proximity alert mode, then followed her off the bridge for the night.

Meanwhile, Falco had set up a table in the rec room. Peppy, Miyu, Fay and Rob sat around the table, with Rob dealing cards. Falco had started the game wearing shades but after loosing four hands, he quickly realized that the reflective shades were showing his cards to the group. Now that the shades were put away, he was recuperating from his losses, winning some measure of his money back.

Miyu placed a card on the table, tapping the back of it twice. Rob dealt another and she took it quickly, then leaned back in her seat. Peppy had already won one round and wasn't doing too badly, being an old pro.

Falco won the last two hands, getting back some of his loses that had gone to Miyu early in the game.

Suddenly, Slippy ran into the room and in his usual boisterous voice, exclaimed, "We've finished the translators for the Earthling types! They're fantastic!"

Falco glanced up with a grin. "Hard work pays off, Slippy. Is that your way of telling me that you want first dibs on the bed, because I'm in here and you're turning in?"

"You know me too well," Slippy said with a shrug. He thought for a moment, then added, "Are you throwing away credits again?"

"Are you dating me?" Falco snapped. "And no, I won the last two rounds. Just don't snore tonight," He added, then turned back to the group, reaching to push a credit marker into the center of the table. Peppy folded, Fay folded. It was down to Falco and the lynx.

"Think you can hustle me?" casually, Lombardi said to her.

"Let me show you how it's done," her reply was equally casual. Slippy looked on with mild interest, wondering if the Falcon would blow his cash or win.

Falco didn't want to lose too much if it turned out that she was holding a better hand, so he met her bid then upped by a single credit, calling her hand. She laid down cards that only beat Lombardi's own by a technicality. He dropped his cards on the table with a soft groan, shooing Slippy away. "C'mon, Toad, you're bad luck. Take a hike, bro."

"I've been the luckiest poker player on my old assignment, the entire tour," Miyu said, blowing him a kiss, then reaching to collect her winnings. "Ante up, boys. Mistress Shark is back in business."

Slippy shook his head and left the room, heading for bed. It would certainly be a long day tomorrow, because the whole crew would be able to join into the conversation with the new beings. He was also quite interested in learning about this strange way the race was using fission to detonate a bomb and create an imploding concussive force. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like dirty warfare.

Anything that involved radioactive elements and fission would make a place inhospitable for a great length of time. It just seemed like a waste, to conquer a place then let it rot. Slippy pushed open the door, dropping onto the mattress and putting his feet up. He pulled a small flexible disc from his pocket and placed it over his nasal passages. Keeping Falco up all night wasn't in anyone's best interest. Within a few minutes, the sands of Morpheus found Slippy Toad.

* * *

**x- 11.5 hours later. 8:15 am, Wyoming, United States -x**

Two choppers flew into the area. They were followed by a Marine-issue jump jet, which settled into the field, singeing a small patch of the waist-high grass. It was determined that the area had seen rainfall recently enough that the grass wouldn't burn very easily. The Harrier's noisy engine shut off, as did the engines for both Black Hawks.

Fox and Krystal were ready. Peppy and Slippy were equally ready, leaving everyone else in bed at this point. Same as before, they waited on the edge of the flight deck, leaving the gangplank in place. The same lady as before, this time she was joined by a small group. Two men with assault rifles, two men in business looking suits with a strange piece of fabric hanging from their necks, and Agent Jackie Harrison. Finally, there was a man in a long, gray dress coat, wearing glasses.

There were more men with guns, but they took positions in the field, setting up a parameter. Fox folded his arms, watching them approach. Once the human coterie arrived at the bottom of the ramp, he made the same gesture as the day before, offering them an invitation to board the GreatFox. He had no reason to fear them, it was obvious his race was far superior to them in means of technology.

Slippy quickly pointed to a metal cart, with a dozen ear pieces, sitting in neat little rows. Krystal cleared her throat and said, "They're for you, so you can understand the Cornerian Language," She explained. The talking blue-furred animal seemed to shock everyone except for Agent Harrison. She walked to the metal table, picked up the translator and pointed to the table, staring at her group.

Regardless of the fact that several of these men were briefed that there was a member of this alien group that could telepathically speak the English Language, their faces were still dumbstruck. Harrison looked the little object over then turned to her entourage.

"They built interpreter modules that translate the language, so we can understand one another," Jackie said. The stoic looking guy with the glasses approached the table and picked one up, putting it into his ear. The fit wasn't very good, but he quickly noted that the molding was just malleable enough that it became comfortable after a moment or two.

The two men in business suits approached the table and took a translator. Then, finally, the two guards, with their assault rifles, approached the table and took a translator. Half of the ear pieces were now in use, leaving 6 on the metal tray.

"All right, say something so I can make sure I can understand you," Jackie said to the group. Fox offered his paw, the same way they shook the night before.

"Fox McCloud of the StarFox Mercenary Squadron, at your service," He said then shook each of their fleshy hands. He noted that one of the men holding a rifle was black skinned, while the rest of them were white. Maybe Krystal was wrong about her assumption on racial segregation, or perhaps not all Humans were like that. Once he shook with all 6 of them, he stepped back, then started the introductions.

"This is Peppy Hare, a veteran of the team and my advisor. He's also a hobbyist cryptographer, and grandfatherly figure," Fox explained, then motioning to Slippy, "Slippy Toad is our resident mechanic and Engineering Technician. Finally, Krystal, who's the team telepath and newest pilot. She's our linguist, due to her ability to communicate with any sentient being," Fox told them. They seemed to comprehend, which was a huge relief. He gave Slippy a pat on his shoulder for making such an outstanding device.

"Well met, Mister McCloud," Said Jackie, beginning with her own introductions. "As you may already know, I'm Agent Jacquelyn Harrison. Feel free to call me Jackie. I'm the head field supervisor for the Paranormal Division of the Central Intelligence Agency, Division 6." She then motioned to the man in the long gray coat, with the glasses. "To my right, I have Doctor Raymond Keiser PhD. On my left is Secretary of State, Theodore White and Secretary of Homeland Security, Michael Chertoff, who's been in his position for five and a half years," She explained.

"A pleasure to meet you, all three of you," Fox said. "I've got an idea how to make your people happy, I'm going to… if it's all right with you… assign a member of my crew to each of your people, to better answer their questions. I'm really interested in meeting with your nation's leader; we're running out of time."

"What did you have in mind," Jackie asked, quirking her brows.

"Your Secretary of State would due well to be given the tour by Krystal and Peppy. Send one of the guards with them, if it makes you guys feel safe. Then, I'll send Slippy and his Father with the department of Homeland Security, so they can go over …security issues?"

Jackie lifted her hand and Fox grew quiet. She offered a slight smile, then said, "The Secretary of Security's job is to ensure you guys aren't a threat. He heads the department, but showing him your ship won't mean much, he has agents who specialize in that sort of thing to help with that."

"Well, whichever. I was hoping we could arrange a conference with the President. It's pretty important," Fox said. "We have to make arrangements to run patrols and prepare for combat with Andross and if you guys don't want your public to be involved in this, then we need to get things settled, immediately."

"All right, Fox. All right, I'll see what I can do," Jackie said, taking out her cell phone. She made a call and held a short conversation with one of her superiors. After a few minutes she closed the phone and rubbed her forehead. "I suppose extra terrestrial visitors have clout, I can fly you to a location to meet with the President. The conference will be held on his private jet, we call AirForce One. It's not exactly a negotiable place. It will require you to be separated from your team."

McCloud stole a glance at his teammates then shrugged. "I suppose that's doable. I'm sure the team can manage for a little while, without me," Fox said, turning to Peppy.

"I'll keep'em in line, Fox," Hare said, adding, "Every minute we don't act is a minute that Andross is getting ready. We need a base of operations and an underground bunker to repair GreatFox. Remember, no outside help. We're here on business. We can't negotiate that, they're in danger and we don't know when Andross will strike."

"Yeah, I know," Fox said with a nod. "Slippy, hand me two of those translators, I may need them," he said, pointing to the metal cart besides his friend. Slippy took two off the table and handed them to Fox, who pocketed them quickly, then leaned to kiss the side of Krystal's muzzle. "Keep things smooth until I get back."

With that, he turned to Jackie and waved his paw forwards. "Take me to your leader, Earthling," he joked playfully. Harrison blinked twice, making an attempt not to burst into laughter. It was the most cliché line of all time; she couldn't help but ask where he'd heard it. Fox gave a shrug then answered honestly, "I got up early, a few hours ago, and we spent some time getting familiar with a few of your television shows and cinemas, involving first contact with aliens. We got the giggles over one of the old black and white programs where the aliens actually used that corny line. I couldn't help myself," He admitted with a shrug. "We were using the audio to test our translators and make sure we could understand what was being said."

The chortling frog turned away, erupting into half-muffled snickers, getting ribbed in the side by Krystal, who remained professional throughout the conversation. Fox gave a shrug then turned back to Jackie. "All right, I'm sure these guys have plenty to talk about, so lead the way," He said, gesturing her forward. She and Fox descended the ramp, heading through the waist-high grass once more.

One of the soldiers that was part of the parameter team advanced on their position, coming to escort them towards a chopper. This time, he held the door and Agent Harrison and Fox McCloud boarded the Black Hawk, which took off within a short moment.

"So, you're a fighter pilot?" She asked. Of the pilots and crew chief, as well as the soldier that went along for security detail, she was the only one that could understand his replies, due to having the translator in her ear.

Fox found himself getting tired easily; the air was thinner than he was used to. "I'm the leader of my squadron. We're paid to attack or defend or even escort targeted objectives. The guy that's in this system right now, well, I took this mission because I have a personal vendetta against him."

"I see," Jackie said, her voice rose in volume, to speak over the sound of the chopper's motor, above their head, "What happened?"

"He inadvertently killed both of my parents, while chasing after my father in a fit of adolescent jealousy," Fox replied, glancing to the ground far below, through a window on the sliding doors on the side.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Fox. That's hard for anyone. Why haven't you gone after this guy, already?" She asked, keeping a finger over her ear, so that she could hear every translated word, better.

"I have. This is my third time, and I have a feeling that this will be it," Fox replied. "You know? The final showdown."

"We have a saying here, on Earth… Third time is the Charm," explained Harrison, following his eyes, looking to the world below. "What's wrong?"

"It's just strange," Fox chuckled, "Seeing the world go by that slowly. I feel like I'm just about floating along."

"Well, it's not so bad. We're making good time, really. We'll set down at Cheyenne Airport where a Leer Jet will take you into Colorado. From there, we'll put you on AirForce One and it should be interesting, from that point," She said.

"So why are you doing this? Meeting the first aliens and whatever," Fox asked.

"Historical value!" Jackie told him. "The first woman, the first _human being_ to make contact with an Alien Being? Are you kidding? That's huge! No way was I going to send an agent to get that glory," She announced, boisterously. "I have career aspirations; I plan to make this a stepping stone on my way to becoming somebody!"

"You're the head of your division," Fox recalled aloud, "That's somebody, right?"

"Yeah," Jackie agreed, her voice still being projected, to speak over the chopper's motor roar, "But I have lofty goals and records to break for women! What about your planet, Fox? How are women's equality rights, there?"

"Are you kidding me?" Fox laughed, "The only reason our current Prime Minister is a male, is because his spouse refuses to step into the spot light. She runs the place through him, he's just a good public speaker. There's no gender issues on Corneria. And with so many species of Cornerians, racism is out of the question, it just doesn't exist any more. Hasn't even been a known issue for decades that I'm aware of!"

"Must be nice," She replied sourly, "We had a black lady running for president, two years ago. There were riots and bigots and… it was a damn mess. Some cities cheered for her, other cities booed her off stage. One of this country's all time lows, if you ask me," explained Agent Harrison.

"You guys have quite a few differences," Fox noted. "Slippy reminded me to mention that whole Nuclear Fission thing. You guys actually split atoms and force atomic nuclear fission for destructive purposes? What's the point of it?"

"It's an immature way to wipe out entire cities. Whoever lives," Said Harrison, "They get sick from radiation doses that are so high, they'll turn your insides to jelly in a matter of hours. It's a device invented 70 years ago and we're too foolish to let them go, yet. How do you guys combat threats without going nuclear?"

"We've never used nuclear means or atomic fission as a way of destruction. No one ever dreamed that up on Corneria. It was always used as a means of power, but it's primitive and dangerous," Fox said, shrugging slightly. "We use bombs that actually simulate a burst of collapsed gravity, for just a moment. We call it the Nova Bomb, because it's like a miniature supernova, which emits a shockwave that will devastate any objects in the direct path, for up to a significant amount of space. That reminds me, how does your measurement system work?"

"Our measurement system?" Jackie tilted her head. "Well we have two. Metric and American. America is a bit stubborn and won't switch over to metric, but that's no big deal. I'll get you a metric ruler and a conversion table when we land, if you want. You can play with it on the leer jet, if you're that interested."

"Not me, personally, but Slippy might be interested to know," Fox explained.

The conversation continued in this way until they landed in the Capitol of Wyoming. From there, a private jet was used to take them into Denver Colorado. The President was waiting and Jackie was, unfortunately, forbidden to join. Out on the tarmac, two armed Secret Service soldiers led Fox to the staircase on the side of the primitive jet liner, leading Fox through the plane to where the President sat in waiting.

Fox approached him, handing over an ear piece. He waited until the President took it before offering a shake of hands. The President looked as if he didn't know what the object was, so Fox motioned to his own ear and the President nodded, following suit. Once it was in, Fox spoke.

"I'm Fox McCloud, Sir. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry I didn't give you much time in this matter, but unfortunately, I'm here on business and with our cooperation I'll be able to protect this area from a threat that's lying in wait at the edge of your planetary solar system."

That was how the meeting began. From there, it was all down hill.

* * *

a/n: _Just wait until the team runs across actual human racism! It'll be fantastic for the team to discover "hatred just because" and there is a lot of that in the world. Neat. Thanks for reading!_

_SO i'm re-reading back over this old story and there are so many things i've recycled into my newer stories... use of nuclear devices, fay and miyu (they're in the new Similar Paths Taken chapter) and all that crap. even andross coming back was recycled into the end of reflections of the future... lol. but this story was so old and never used! LOL _

_SO! OMG HYOOMANZ ...I swear to you that I will take the idea of "Star Fox MEETS TEH HUMANS" in a very serious way. NO, I won't insert myself in or let Ken Weaver Jr. meet Star Fox. YES I will take this story seriously and do research on it to make sure things are realistic. I have no idea who the president is going to be in 4 years, so I won't name him right off the bat. But yeah... stuff. I'll stick with titles for now. Things heat up shortly, so please stick with it a little longer and see what happens. Chapter 6 is where stuff starts getting really interesting in my opinion. Also, leave feedback and make some suggestions! I'm re-writing it, not sticking with the original format to the hand-written letter. I had no real concept of good story telling back in 1994, after all. xD It's 2006, I'm worlds better, now! At least... I hope so, LOL._


	3. Chapter 5 And 6

c-5: The Ranch.

Four months…. No movement from Andross yet. The lives of the StarFox crew were turned upside down from this strange method of living. GreatFox was now being used as a ground storage facility. It was kept in a bunker beneath the surface and The Ranch was what the team was told to use.

Wyoming, on a stage average, was marked at 4 people per square mile. With the consideration of the State Capitol and other small cities in the state, there were sections of Wyoming that were empty for hundreds of miles in all directions. StarFox landed in the least densely populated area, to stay away from everyone and while that didn't work in the long run, it kept them out of the public eye completely.

Fox and Team had a great deal to learn about Earth while staying on it. The year was 2010 and the planet was still a long way behind in technology, other than their startling breakthrough in tactical nuclear weapons. It boggled the minds of the team to know that someone could put a small nuclear device into a missile, send it 400 miles and aim it through the window of someone's apartment building and set off an ultra low-yield nuclear bomb in their living room, without killing the people in the downstairs rental office. The only problem was giving someone cancer in the next apartment over.

In Lylat, weapons came to the forefront as a means of self defense. They were used in space exploration against the likes of Andross or any type of attackers. Humans sought to make massive destructive weapons a big deal before leaving the planet to explore.

To the team, it seemed as though the human nature was the opposite of humanity. They were self destructive, going to war over the inability to have an open mind for their fellow human. Most wars were on beliefs and the desires to display or obtain power.

With the translators, Fox and his team had taken to watching a television station known as The History Channel, on their off days. Two teams of 3 would fly patrols in the Solar System, with the promise to bring back photographs to their Space Agency, known as NASA.

Each Arwing was outfitted with cameras and other such things. Falco led Fay and Miyu, while Fox led Slippy and Krystal through the cosmos, passed several planets, around the loop and back. They kept their distance from the CoreBase and always went back to Earth before they could be spotted.

The Ranch was huge. Several hundred acres in a massive square shaped complex. The buildings, for the most part, were beneath the ground. The only things that were above ground was the barracks they used for sleep. Each was equipped with a shower hall and both provided a stable roof. Krystal was staying with Miyu and Fay at nights, leaving the boys their own bunk house, Slippy, Falco and Fox.

Peppy, Beltino and ROB lived on the GreatFox, beneath the Wyoming soil. Four Months, thanks to all the bureaucratic tape and the fact that Andross was hiding out, biding his time to prepare his legions to effectively strike against a full sized planet. Fox's patrols often involved spying to see how Oikonny was running the fighter patterns. Fox wanted to be ready. It would be six pilots against several hundred.

But after four months on The Ranch, Fox and his team were starting to feel cramped. Fay and Miyu were already 3 months late in returning to Corneria and McCloud had to wonder if General Pepper assumed the entire team to be Killed In Action. Regardless, the team was willing to compensate to the needs of the American Government to help keep things smooth. Not only that, General Pepper was going to be paying StarFox a ridiculous amount of money when they got back to Lylat.

At first, Fox felt grateful to help this "NASA" organization with deep space photography during patrols, in order to make up for GreatFox having clipped a satellite. The Satellite was called The Hubble Telescope and cost a great fortune to have installed in the Earth's Orbit. The problem was, the GreatFox actually materialized only 35 yards from the machine when the team first appeared in the Solar System.

Now, Fox didn't really care one way or the other about what had happened to the Satellite. Boredom and frustration were clouding his thoughts. He wanted to finish the job and return home to Lylat. Fay and Miyu didn't seem too concerned about having no contact with General Pepper. It wasn't that they didn't care about their careers; it was just the fact that there was so much to do here. However, Miyu did in fact miss her mate.

In the end, when everything came down to morale and whatnot, StarFox wanted to finish up their mission and go home. As interesting as Earth first seemed, the planet was now losing the sparkle. A planet of lackluster bureaucrats bogged down their visit. Scientists that came to visit, the special agents from military branches that came to talk, the very few world leaders that came by… it was a major annoyance after four months.

Representatives from several countries were given the runaround when trying to ascertain the validity of 'alien' rumors. Only the president of the United States, as well as the world leaders of Japan, England, Germany and Russia really knew about the team. Sworn to secrecy, the leaders of these five countries had their absolute brightest engineers and scientists working to provide for the team.

The red-tape seemed to be as thick as steel in many ways. When it came down to it, the handful of people from around the world were helping to keep the Arwings up and running. They were also given permission to sit down and 'tinker' with GreatFox so that the cruiser would ultimately be ready to go up against the Oikonny Corebase. Due to an 'earth joke', the staff of humans referred to the Corebase as "The Death Star."

Boeing Phantom Works and Lockheed Martin's Skunk Works were brought together as a collaborative team of engineers, seeking to redesign the GreatFox's offensive capabilities. It had taken the first three months for Beltino and Peppy to help convince the United States Government to sink time and money into this project. The end result was permission granted directly from the President of the United States.

Work began on weapons in several fields. Sadly and quite oddly, it turned into some sort of competition for these human groups. Plasma weapons, fusion weapons and gravity weapons were considered. However, by the end of the fourth month, Fox was told that there was a new weapon in the works that seemed to be the most likely candidate.

An energy weapon that was designed to garnish the plasma stored from high power, such as the natural energy that causes plasma at around Mach 8. This Energy weapon was designed to direct incredibly high amounts of concentrated radiation in a focused beam. The end result was complete vaporization of a target object. The information made Fox feel uncomfortable.

Hitting an enemy squadron with such a beam would disintegrate the whole lot of them with one blast. However, the thought of these fairly-immature human beings capable of dreaming up such a weapon was a bit scary. Fox didn't care to have such a weapon exist so that no one could get their hands on it and use it for murder.

The worst part of this weapon was the refractive index of the beam in other mediums. There was absolutely no way to visualize the immense energy. As the weapon was under construction, preliminary tests showed the discharge to simply flicker. It was like a photography flash. The discharge beam, itself, was completely invisible. Its power was too high to be properly perceived by the naked eye. McCloud was growing worried by the necessary fact that his team was working with these Humans.

It wasn't that he didn't trust them completely. Krystal would always point out which humans were trustworthy and which ones were worthless. When this work began, two months into their visit, Fox, Krystal and Slippy were asked to have an audience with a scientific advisor. This man served the President directly. He gave off a vibe that made Fox feel uncomfortable and Krystal trusted the man even less.

Once that man had left, Krystal explained that he was helping to sway the president to help StarFox for only one reason: He wanted an excuse to be given permission to work on an ultimate weapon. Now this man was in charge of building such a weapon for GreatFox but Krystal warned that he was far from trustworthy. The man was, however, capable of pulling together a group from Lockheed Martin and Boeing to make this weapon exist. It was a scary thought.

But at the time being, StarFox was being treated as a guest. The team was given food, entertainment to some extent and supplies. Their ship was being repaired. They were being trusted to some degree by Earth in return of their services of stopping Andross from an imminent attack on Earth. Currently the planet's defenses wouldn't be enough to fight the technologically advanced Corebase.

At this point of time, GreatFox and several fighters could not match the power and defenses of a Corebase. The ultimate weapon to stop Andross Oikonny would eventually be the Human imagination. While Andross was mining resources from other planets throughout the Solar System and getting ready for an assault, the Human race was helping StarFox prepare in much the same way.

It boiled down to two types of weapons that would be available for use against Andross Oikonny and his Corebase. One was the energy weapon, the other was a bomb capable of ripping a hole in time-space. If the gravity weapon could be used against the Corebase, it would doom the enemy into a manmade black hole. The power of such intense gravity would tear the Corebase into shreds and suck it from Linier space.

Krystal theorized the possibility of certain Human Beings using the StarFox team as an excuse to build these weapons. She told Fox that if these certain people had their way, the weapons would be created for StarFox but instead of bestowing them to the team in order to fight Andross, they would be set up around Earth as a means to fight Andross' Corebase assault in the near future. The astounding immaturity of the species was frightening.

Fox didn't know who he trusted less… Andross or a third of the population of Earth. If most humans had their way, they would vote for such a weapon to be used against any and all aliens. The human race was a paranoid, untrusting group of people who bickered and squabbled over outrageously foolish things. Allowing the race to build their dream weapon and claim it was to help the StarFox squadron fight Andross seemed a foolish idea on Fox's part. But, without their imagination and personality, Fox's team would never have a weapon with which to combat this Corebase.

It all boiled down to watching the diplomatic tension between the trusted humans and the untrustworthy members of the same race. Never before had Fox been so curious by a group of people with so many different agendas. All in all, the human race didn't know what it wanted for itself, in a whole. They simply knew that, as a collective, they wanted to survive. As it currently stood, the future technology involved in creating a doomsday weapon may be the only chance for the survival of the entire race.

If Andross had it his way, he'd kill 5 and a half billion humans and use the remaining 600 million as slave labor. Then he'd force these very same engineers and scientists to create weapons for him to use against Lylat. Fox couldn't let that happen. Frustration, boredom and worry were all sitting on his shoulders. He was starting to dislike this planet and its population to some extent. Most of the people building these weapons didn't trust him and he couldn't trust them.

Only an incredibly select few members of the entire race had his respect. Agent Harrison and the President of the United States seemed completely trustworthy. Also, world leaders of both Japan and England seemed trustworthy. The leaders of Germany and Russia seemed to grasp the situation involving Andross and so they, too, had a measure of Fox's respect. But beyond that, his trust and admiration and his level of Respect for the human race ended with those few people.

From a very short study of the entire race, he'd learned that most people in charge were the absolute most untrustworthy of all. He'd learned within such a short time of looking at Human history, that power corrupted most beings and only a very few were truly righteous people. In the end, though, Fox was worried about what would happen if Andross did succeed in his future assault on Earth…

Would he force the planet to make these weapons for him to use against Lylat? McCloud didn't want that to happen. He hated the Ranch and the restrictions placed on him and his team. He wanted to know why the rest of the human race wasn't ready to meet alien visitors for the first time. He wanted to know why the race couldn't agree as a collective group on how to handle a situation. He hated the secrecy and how the governments quarreled with one another over foolish, immature things like whether to help him and his team stop Andross or not.

In the end, Fox simply wanted to finish his job, kill Andross then go home to Lylat and relax.

* * *

Brian Sternhoff was a little nervous. Normally, he was the last person to be nervous but having just come from the "Alien Mother Ship", he now knew that there really was a group of extra terrestrials. He didn't meet the two resident aliens or the robot that was rumored to be on the large cruiser ship but now he was being ordered to have a conversation with the crew of that ship, directly. 

Sternhoff sat quietly in the back of the Cadillac, waiting for his driver to open the door. Once he was out of the car, he took a long, deep breath. It had been nearly two solid months inside the engineering section of that Alien Vessel. He didn't _know_ why he was being ordered to learn the machine and then upgrade it; he simply did as he was told up to this point.

The Wyoming skyline was beginning to dim as the sun reached into the western horizon. This was the least densely populated county in the entire United States of America. Brian glanced back at the Cadillac then turned his eyes on the concrete buildings across the field. Suddenly, a noise filled the air. His chin lifted, eyes looking to the sky for any sign of the noise.

A small, arrow-like fighter sank into the atmosphere, followed by two other fighters. As they moved into the area, their forward velocity decreased to the point of hovering. A deep grumble became audible next and Brian watched as a section of the ground, further out in the field, began to open. It was like something out of X-Files or perhaps a secret missile silo bunker. Each of the three fighters lowered vertically, disappearing into the earth. The rumbling was heard again and the grassy field closed with a grinding sound of finality.

A gentleman, seemingly from out of nowhere, placed his hand on Sternhoff's shoulder. Brian, about 35 with sandy-brown hair, turned to face the man, who was a great deal taller. In fact, Sternhoff's face was eye-level with the NORAD badge that hung from the larger man's neck.

"You're a large fellow, aren't you?" Sternhoff squeaked nervously. "I'm one of the engineers working on the mothership vessel. I've been ordered out here to speak directly to the aliens about their engines and changes that may be necessary." His lanky, short half-Japanese stature made him appear as a wimp but Brian, contrary to popular belief, was an absolute junkie when it came to martial arts.

"Your driver had three hours of medical testing and full-body cavity searches performed on him," The large man with the badge said with a smirk. "Trust me, I know why you're here and he knows why you're here. You don't have to announce why you're here. You'll need to wear a Bluetooth headset relay unit and this PDA on your hip to understand the Aliens. You'll have to speak in English for _this_ unit. It's our latest model and works better than the last one but don't start stammering or anything, okay?"

"Sure," Brian said, furrowing his brows. "Are you going to escort me or something?"

The man simply frowned then said, "I'm not your mother, kid. Just go in through the main Ranch house and do it quickly. We like to keep those involved with the Aliens out of the public eye."

"Um, we're not _in_ public," Sternhoff replied. The NORAD Agent lifted his right hand, pointing at the sky as if to indicate anything from spy planes to satellites. The corner of Brian's mouth tugged at the right side as if trying to fake a fraction of a smile then he began to cross the field, alone, heading for The Ranch building's main entrance.

Inside the main building, two amphibians were sitting at a table with their hands folded. It was creepy in a way, seeing two large frogs sitting there with a smile. He'd heard rumors that they were animals but to see two giant real-life versions of Kermit the Frog sitting directly in front him really took the cake. "…Hi, I'm Brian Sternhoff," He said, sitting down at the table, trying not to fidget nervously.

"I'm Beltino," One of them said, adding, "This is my son, Slippy. We're educated engineers and my Son, here, works for the StarFox Team as Chief inventor and repairman. I understand you need our help with GreatFox's Engines but I can't understand why. It's a brand new ship, the engines really should have nothing to do with the upgrade mission."

"Well," Brian said, frowning immediately. He could tell they didn't trust him and his reasons for wanting to tamper with their engines but to be honest, he was honest when it came to doing his job. "It's like this, gentlemen," He told them, looking from one to the other. "The power grid matrix is consumed off of the engine drive. But when we power up the energy transfer beam, it may cause the engines to stall and stay offline for an unordinary amount of time. We've tested this on the best and most powerful engines Earth has to offer and I want to make sure it doesn't stifle your own power drive. I need your help in performing these tests so I know that you won't be defenseless to evade attackers."

"Then I guess we'd better get started," Beltino said, standing up. Slippy joined him, nodding in agreement. The two headed off down the hallway together with Slippy entering the conversation with his usual sparkling repartee.

* * *

Prime Minister Arkadyvich Renyenko stood before an observatory window, overlooking Mother Russia. His back was turned to the Alien but his eyes watched the outline of the alien in the window's reflection. Of course, Earth was millions of miles away and was truly a blip in the night sky in comparison to what he saw on the window. It was actually a giant screen but Earth looked as though it was just a few hundred thousand miles from this Core Base. 

"The Fox and his crew have a telepathic member of their team," Said Renyenko. "My country would do well to be the surviving members of Earth after your invasion but if I'm ever placed back in a room in front of the blue animal, they'll know I've spoken with you. That would destroy everything and The United States of America would surely go to war with us for breeching the trust. However…" He paused for a moment then turned back to face Andross Oikonny.

"I've seen their ship and I've seen yours," Said Arkadyvich Renyenko, shaking his head slowly. "I'd rather my people work to guarantee your success than to inspire your wrath when you attack Earth. I don't want _anyone_ from the Motherland to _die_ when you attack. After seeing your impressive asteroid-sized base, I know for a fact that Earth has about as little of a chance as this StarFox team. I wish to make peace now before it's too late."

"Then you accept my proposal?" The ape asked, folding his arms across his chest. "Don't worry; even if you said no, I'd return you to your planet. After all, I have to let tension and worry build up on that planet so that everyone is shaking in their boots by the time I arrive."

"I'm not saying no," Arkadyvich told the man. "I'm also _not_ saying YES, just yet. My duty is to my people and my country and we feel that it's much more important that we guarantee our survival than the rest of the race; by preserving ourselves we _are_ preserving the race. But it's been 4 months… why've you not attacked yet?"

"I have _four thousand_ Venom Pilots. I have _nineteen hundred_ fighters. We're mining iron ore from other planets in this system to better make a perfect fleet of fighters. My armada of _two thousand_ fighters _lost_ against a _four man team_ when StarFox was in their heyday. It won't happen again and they have _six_ pilots now, according to our intelligence. Can you confirm that?"

Arkady nodded. "There are 8 people, but I do think 6 of them are fighter pilots. The other two are old and weathered."

"Probably Peppy Hare and Commissioner Beltino Toad," Andross mused. "You've proven yourself as an effective leader who cares about his people. I was handed the planet Venom once and used my mind and my focus to repair their economy and fix a broken world. My life's main focus was to repair the world and fix the climate but I was sidetracked by a cloud of anger and the desire for revenge. Your species is much like my own. We're a veritable genetic cousin, Arkadyvich. I want us to go far in this alliance but I agree: absolute silence is necessary or your own species will_ not_ trust you. Your country has been through a lot in the last century and it's time to regain your nation's greatness. I'll send you back to your home now, the trip will take three days from this range. I'll contact you again, soon. Farewell." Andross extended his large hand to the human's hand and they shook. Renyenko nodded then turned for the door.

Two lizards with guns and a marmoset with a fancy looking uniform came to the door as an escort. The only thing that Arkady could think of was the future political tensions if this all came to fruitation and the planet was invaded and Russia was spared. Would Israel be jealous? Would The United States be angry? The Middle East would certainly be upset with Russia for becoming the loyal lapdog of an enemy attacker.

The thing is, Renyenko wanted to ensure his people's survival and this was the way to do it. He knew that if worst came to worst, he could play the Italian World War II Card. However, it might hurt the credibility his country had with other countries if he went _too_ public with this after the assault on Earth. It worried him and he constantly wondered if he was doing the right thing. After all, if this Andross person won, his people would be spared. If these StarFox pilots won, all of Earth, including his people, would be spared. He might be put to death as a traitor but at least he ensures that his people survive either way. _THAT_ was the important thing. The motherland may have been in pieces anymore but it would all be spared and that was what mattered.

x-

* * *

X

* * *

C6- Emergency maneuvers!

**The StarFox Team **was content to rest after a double patrol schedule. They had the next 14 hours to relax and talk amongst themselves. Slippy and Fox were in a discussion about the differences and similarities between Cornerian music and Earth music. Apparently, math and melody had a universal commonality in a few slight respects and that meant the group occasionally liked to sample Earth music. Peppy enjoyed the Classical genere while Slippy and Fox had an uncanny attraction towards a variety of rock and fusion sounds. Miyu tended to go for the British and American music circa 1970's and Fay enjoyed a more modern pop sound. Krystal and Beltino both agreed that it was all sensational and it all had a fresh sound to it. Neither really had a preference. Falco didn't have an opinion either; he just liked anything that had a lively feel to it that could go well with destroying enemy targets.

Earth wasn't a dismal place. Those that seemed to have their hearts in the right place made the planet worth saving. Even though Fox was half-way using the planet as a staging area to attack and finish Andross, he had to admit that the little blue planet had a certain charm about it. His thoughts on the matter were interrupted, however, when a video communication device began to chirp loudly. Fox made his way through the underground bunker, stopping in front of a large wall that seemed to be made of a reflection plastic surface.

The wall illuminated with a member of the NASA group with a military Colonel standing to the side. Fox placed the translator into his ear then folded his arms and waited. The NASA Administrator nodded in salutation then said, "We've detected high speed movement. The triumvirate of objects is moving from the Asteroid belt and heading for Earth. It's a small rectangular object with two unidentifiable ships that resemble a fighter escort. We were hoping you could check it out."

"I'm on it," Fox said quickly. He turned from the screen and hurried out of the room to find Falco. He was going to put the Avian on launch standby and find Krystal and Slippy to get them ready for launch. Once everyone was assembled, he explained the situation and headed for the flight deck. Finally, after four freakin' months, there was a chance for some sort of action. He was growing bored up until now and was glad to have something to do beyond simple patrol runs.

**X- Thirty Minutes Later –X**

McCloud, Toad and the azure-furred vixen, Krystal, were in their ships and heading up through the atmosphere. It was the first time they'd done a takeoff in the middle of the afternoon but because America asked them to do this, they knew someone must have been up. Once the Delta formation broke the Earth's gravity, they laid in an intercept course for the tree small objects heading for Earth.

The Arwings were incredibly fast, surpassing Mach 5, heading into deep space. The Earth's moon was very large in the left side of the canopy glass; the Arwings were ordered to stay close to the moon to keep from being spotted by Telescopes around the Planet. Fox opened a channel to his two wingmates and said, "I see the three objects, they're coming right this way. Can you sense anything, Krystal?"

"Worry from one, the other two are very polished Venom fighters," She replied. "They're ace combat pilots on an escort mission, Fox. Part of me wants to believe that the nervous one is a human but it's difficult to discern from a simian species like a Marmoset or an Ape, like Andross. However, it's _not_ Andross, himself."

"That's odd," Fox said, more to himself. "Are they are threat, Slippy?"

"Checking now, Fox!" Toad replied. After a moment, he said, "Two of the ships are very well armed. The other is just an escort transport. If it _is_ a human, that means Andross is talking to certain humans and ferrying them back and forth between his base and this planet. I say we go after the fighters, let the escort keep going and have someone in the American Intelligence community track the escort to see just _who_ is the traitor scumbag."

"One thing at a time," Fox said. "Go ahead and call one of those American intelligence guys, Slippy. I'll come up with a plan and Krystal… well, hon, you keep searching to see what you can learn from them. Also, try and see if you can sense if they've spotted us yet or not."

"Roger, Fox," Krystal replied calmly. They were on a direct intercept course but were at least fifteen full minutes from crossing paths. She then paused and frowned. "I can't tell, he's just nervous and angry and full of emotions. They're so intense that I can't actually focus on reading his thoughts from this distance," She explained. "The fighters are breaking off to attack us, get ready!"

Fox charged his beam then opened fire. The Venom fighter evaded his shot and returned fire but the massive gap between the two sides allowed for Fox to easily dodge the plasma blast with plenty of time to spare. Fox, Slippy and Krystal kicked in their afterburners and punched the throttle. It only took a few minutes to be in range and the dogfight began. These were obviously ace pilots; the two Venom fighters parted then crossed their paths in a figure 8, coming back around in an attempt to get behind the StarFox team.

Slippy covered Krystal who punched her afterburners in an attempt to get closer to the escort ship. Fox moved behind one of the fighters and picked apart his engine casing after chewing through his aft shields.

"My goddess!" Krystal exclaimed. "It _is_ a human!" She cried before suddenly announcing, "I've taken damage!" The fighter that hit her was in danger of being destroyed by Fox McCloud but it was relentless, ready to give their life to stop Krystal from reporting information back to the humans. She pulled back on her flight stick but the Venom fighters had intensely powerful plasma weapons. Her Arwing shuttered heard and her cockpit fluttered. The engines sputtered out and she began to fall, feeling weightless inside of the cockpit. "…Fox!"

"Krystal!" McCloud shouted. Her Arwing began to plummet back into the Earth's atmosphere; a scarlet glow enshrouded her ship as it fell at an awkward angle, collecting far too much heat for the Arwing to properly handle, without shields.

"The heat is too intense," She muttered, squinting her eyes. Slippy used a Nova bomb to destroy the second Venom ship without much of a fight but the first one pulled away from Fox and headed back towards the escort ship. Fox broke from his attack and began chasing after Krystal. He followed her into the atmosphere, using his computer's targeting system to see her ship through the blinding crimson glow.

"Slippy," Krystal shouted into the communicator, "How do I reroute power from my ancillary generator?"

"If you do that, it will short out your G-diffuser!" Slippy replied.

Krystal shook her head and said, "I don't have any other choice! I need my shields to survive this upcoming crash!"

Slippy sputtered a mouthful, sometimes ranting when nervous. "Reboot your secondary computer system. It gives you half of a minute to shift that power supply to your shields. When the computer comes back online, it won't draw power back, and you'll have effectively accomplished it!" The escort was forgotten for the time being.

"I'm doing it, stand by," She said. A moment passed and the red glow began to dissipate from her ship. Her azure fur was matted down with sweat; she was soaked completely in it. Krystal's facial expression contorted over the video feed, showing that her fur was pushed backwards and her muzzle tightened. The G-forces were causing her blood to rush up into her head and the red hue returned to her eyes but this time it wasn't from heat. The nosecone was pointed at the ground which appeared to be gray far below.

"You've got to try and pull up," Fox exclaimed. "You're on the verge of experiencing g-LOC, I can see your vital statistics are dropping, Krystal!"

"Fox, I," Krystal sounded faint. "I'm… I'm okay, I just… I can't focus; I have no… I can't… I'm sorry," She suddenly said.

"Krystal!" Fox said, punching his afterburners. The screeching of metal could be heard as he placed his fighter beneath hers, trying to force her nose to lift. "Eject!" He demanded. "Do it now, eject Krystal!"

"I'm…" She struggled to speak, reaching her trembling left paw for the red lever on the side of her cockpit. She eased her fingers around it, took a slow and deep breath then tugged on it. Her ship shuttered hard, grinding against the metallic hull of Fox's own fighter. Her ejection pod roared upwards, causing her to gasp as if she'd just come up from water after staying under the surface for longer than normal. Her sail opened, slowing the descent of the ejection pod. "Destroy the Arwing, Fox!" Krystal gasped, panting softly, dizzy from the awkward descent and the powerful forces of gravity.

"Dammit," Fox groused, hitting his brakes. Her Arwing slid forward from his fighter, toppling forth so that he was staring at the belly of the craft. He charged his blaster then blew it into pieces, immediately launching a Nova bomb into the wreckage before it could scatter the pieces. Over ninety-five percent of the craft was vaporized so as not to leave a trace of its existence.

He then dipped back downwards but Krystal's escape pod was only ten thousand feet from the ground. "Fox, if you come after me, it will be much worse," She said, starting to regain her focus with the lack of g-forces assaulting her senses. "Let's put our faith in the United States Government, Fox. It's all we can do."

"Krystal, I can't leave you," Fox said, heading down in pursuit. "I don't want to leave you, I don't care about The Ranch, Andross or any of that, I just don't want to lose you!"

"Fox! I'll be FINE and the government will cover this all up; just go back to the Ranch, I mean it!" Krystal paused, glancing at her altimeter which showed she only had three thousand feet to go, "DO IT! I'll be fine, just call Agent Jackie Harrison. GO back, Fox! Do it!"

"Krystal…!" Fox argued.

"Do it! Please, if you love me, do it!" She shouted. Fox gasped, covering his muzzle with one paw. Reluctantly, he broke off from pursuit, watching in her rear-view screen as she disappeared into a clutter of buildings on the East Coast, suddenly disappearing off of his communications grid. His heart sank and out of frustration, he punched the throttle, turning west for Wyoming and the Ranch he grew to despise.

"She's crashing into a heavily populated City," Slippy said, obviously frustrated as well. "The President expressly forbid us from having contact with the public, I'll call agent Harrison and tell her to call the President. This could go very badly, Fox."

McCloud balled his paw up into a fist, glowering at his sensor scope. "Slippy, I know. There's nothing we can do right now, so just… stop." Krystal's communication line had grown silent and she offered no replies; her ejection pod had crash landed somewhere in downtown New York City, on the island of Manhattan. It had collided with a skyscraper then spun out of control, slamming into mid afternoon traffic. Its fall was broken by a taxi cab, crushing the empty back end, flat into the pavement. The cockpit was fogged over in condensation, leaving a thick translucent film over the canopy.

* * *

A/N: _ONOES KRYSTAL WILL BE DISCOVERED! And what about Andross and a human that will betray the rest of his race? We see humans like that all the time! Will Krystal be saved, be killed or be rescued by a crazy sci-fi alien-loving cult? all these questions and more ... shall be answered soon! LOL _


	4. Chapter 7 And 8

Chapter 7: Second Contact

* * *

**Krystal's eyes widened **and there, reflected in her glassy jade eyes was a sky scraper. The wind and gravity sail toyed with the ejection seat until the inevitable came to pass: it collided with a building. Scraping and scratching noises were heard causing her to recoil reply to the high pitched screeching. The ejection pod grunted, picking up speed but its inertia was bounced off of the solid object and returned full force into her metal cocoon. 

A light topspin was put on the large metal object causing it to pin her into the seat. The force of gravity was havoc on her stomach but because of her piloting experience before meeting StarFox, she was no stranger to G-forces. Cerinia didn't have G-diffusing technology and right now, she was not equipped with such a luxury either. The Escape Pod came careening down into the middle of an intersection on Manhattan Island, New York City. The back end of a Ford Crown Victoria became the cockpit case's saving grace, absorbing the impact of her landing.

The ejection seat, weighing one half of a ton, had the force of a high-speed truck. The taxi cab's trunk was flattened into the pavement and the back bumper curled up around the metal ejection unit to cradle it carefully. The backseats were crushed completely and the driver was ejected from the front seat. His seatbelt ripped clean out of the driver-side chair, breaking his left collarbone but by the grace of God, didn't pin him inside the vehicle. He rolled onto his back with the remains of his lunch splattered on his shirt.

"'Ey! That's my frikkin' grinda' on my shirt! …Jesus H. Christ," He added, looking up at the massive metal box that crushed the back end of his cab into the street. Luckily, he had been on lunch break and was without any clientele. People from all around the general area came to a stop, some getting out of their cars to look.

Someone in the distance shouted, "It might be a nuclear bomb; it could go off at any minute!" Some fled, some remained with the logic that a bomb of that size would destroy the whole city before they could even get a fraction of the distance away. A nearby cop, who was directing traffic on the next intersection down, came running up the block, heading towards the scene of the accident.

"It's not a bomb, people!" The cop shouted, adding, "It looks more like the cockpit casing for'a g'damn military jet; go back ta drinkin' ya cawfie, walkin' ya dawgs, go about ya business, will yas?" It was the officer's way of asking for people to back up and give the general area some space. Surly, an ambulance would be coming through soon. He picked up the radio receiver on his shoulder, which was attached to a box on his belt, then said, "Ten-Two, this is Officer J. Bailey, Central. I don't even know if 'dey got a code fo'a this but Jesus, this big thing fell right outta' the sky, yanno, and I need medical," He added, glancing down at the cabbie on the street, whose right hand was reaching up to cover his left shoulder, where his collarbone had been broken.

"Rodger that, Bailey; this is dispatch," Came the distorted reply over his radio. "Medical services have been dispatched; can you verify: a cockpit from a military jet fell out of the sky, over?"

The officer climbed up onto the front end of the Crown Vic and worked his way up the side of the cockpit box, trying to peer in through the glass canopy but it was coated in a thick, translucent film of condensation from the inside. Without warning, a blue glove-like appendage touched the glass. He could tell it was a palm with fingers but it pulled back quickly, leaving only a small window for him to peer in through.

"Yeah," The cop said, reaching back to his radio receiver on the shoulder hook of his uniform. "Looks like a pilot in'a blue uniform, but I can't make out much mo'a den that. I didn't see no jets over head, better call the coast guard ta' check the bay. I'm gonna need backup, the media'll be all over this like cockroaches at'a deli."

"Copy, unit 816, stand by." Dispatch sounded a great deal more serious on this reply. The cop continued trying to look in through the small break in the condensation shield that covered the interior of the glass but couldn't see anything but blue. He took his pistol out and held it by the muzzle, trying to hammer through the glass but it didn't crack. Once frustration set in, he held the weapon at an angle and tried to put a bullet through the glass but had no luck, causing the bullet to ricochet off the bubble-shaped dope and into the sky.

He started hunting for a latch or lever on the side of the cockpit canopy but couldn't seem to find a release handle. After a moment, he reached back up to his receiver and said, "Dispatch, this pilot is alive in here. I can't get da friggin' thing ta open up but the pilot's alive; they jus' touched the glass with their hand; I'm gonna need medical for the pilot, too."

Suddenly the glass popped up just a little bit, causing a hissing of artificial air to come rushing out from the pressurized seal. The cop released the radio receiver and pushed his fingers down to where the canopy separated from the metal box and began to push back and lift at the same time in an attempt to open it. The glass dome finally lifted 90 degrees away from the diagonally cradled cockpit box, giving the officer a clear look at the sapphire-furred animal inside. Obviously a female, the animal looked almost human in some respects; styled hair, clothing and the fact that she was easily 5'5 or so in height. The officer's jaw went slack for a moment and a muffled set of words passed over his tongue…

"Jesus, Mary'n Joseph," He nearly whispered, reaching into the collar of his uniform, beneath the Kevlar Vest he always referred to as the 'girdle', pulling out a crucifix and kissing it while backing away slowly. The animal-like woman lifted her head, blinking her eyes at him with a rather human-like expression on her mouth.

"I'm…injured," She said, causing the officer's stomach to drop. The animal just spoke English to him. He wasn't sure how to react. He was confused and while he was trained for shock and emergency situations, this one defied logic and reason, leaving him dumbfounded. Her muzzle opened again and she said, "Please, pull it together; I'm injured and need help." Her voice was soft and feminine and her words were fairly well enunciated.

In the state of stupor, the copy simply replied, "An ambulance is on the way, lady." He didn't even realize that he'd said it. He didn't know what else to say or do and so he added, "Who _are_ you?"

"…Krystal. And no," She added before he could ask his next question, "This isn't a joke. The man on the street needs attention to; he has a broken collarbone. Don't allow anyone else to see me, keep them away from the cockpit."

"W…why?" The cop was backing away more, now standing on the hood of the taxi cab, barely able to see the top of her ears over the lip of the mouth of the canopy anymore.

Krystal replied, and leaned her weight back into the cockpit seat, staring up at the sky. Her heart was pounding; the adrenaline kept the pain at bay. "Because your government says people are not ready, yet. We promised to uphold their request. I know this sounds a touch… cliché, but just know that I'm here in peace and please try and relax." The cop simply knelt down and slid off of the taxicab, still leering at the metal rectangular box up on the top of the Crown Vic.

"What the hell is alla' that about?" The cabbie asked, still laying on the street.

The cop half glared back at the driver and said, "Shucha pie-hole, you didn't hear nofin; be glad you's alive, okay?"

"You'd betta fill out a police report!" The cabbie rebutted. "My insurance company ain't gonna believe this, so get ta fillin' it out. My registration is inn'a glove box, will ya?" The New Yorker accent was one that Krystal wasn't familiar with. She couldn't really emulate the variance of vowels quite so well, as her wording came out sounding something closer to a proper British dialect than that of this East-American sounding one.

Her muzzle lowered, her eyes dipping down to where the pain in her gut was. Her right paw moved across the front of her flight suit, revealing where part of the flight yolk snapped off, impaling her, a few inches below her stomach, just centimeters from anything apparently vital. Her head plopped back against the seat and she sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to move on her own right now.

Her ears flickered, hearing noise above. Her eyes lifted and a shadow enveloped her body. A news helicopter hovered above and she lifted her left paw, covering her face with her forearm. The cop glanced up as well and quickly scaled the taxicab once more, trying to pull the canopy shut but it wouldn't budge. He then leaned back against the cockpit, attempting to use his body to cover their angle of seeing into the cockpit with their cameras. He waved his arms wildly at them and she could sense that he was immediately angry.

"For the love'a God, yanno? Chri'sake, the damn media's every-flippin'-where!" Officer Bailey muttered. It was obvious that he didn't care for them in general and the fact that they showed up now, after she explained that the government wanted to conceal her existence, it only served to add to the annoyance he felt towards the media as a whole. "Why'n'a hell am I hidin' you again?" He asked Krystal, over his shoulder.

"To buy the favor of your President? I'm not sure," Krystal told him. "I only know that he has forbidden us to be seen by the public. I'm sorry this has fallen upon you and I'll understand if it's too much of a burden. I wouldn't want to hide something like _first contact_ from my people, either."

Bailey waved a dismissing hand and shrugged his shoulders then went back to waving his arms to cover her from being seen by the military. "Yeah, well, I'm not tryin' to have the IRS suddenly find fi'tty things wrong with my taxes next winter, either."

"I… see," Krystal replied. She'd never known that a citizen could feel so untrusting of their government. She didn't want to argue or ask about it, she simply dropped the subject. Her ears perked and she said, "The ambulance is coming."

"What're you talkin' about? I don't hear anything," He said, gesturing an odd hand signal to the News chopper above; a signal she didn't quite know the meaning of. A moment later, the sound of the sirens reached his ears as well then he said, "You could hear that coming from that far away? You animals really do got's good hearin'." The crowd that was gathering was quick to part to allow the medical team through but they weren't as forgiving to extra cops that were making their way through the people by way of horse or foot. Another ambulance came from the opposite direction and now a second media chopper had arrived on the scene. "This is turnin' into a circus," Bailey said sourly.

"I'm afraid you'll have to warn the medics," Krystal said. She was hoping that Agent Harrison or one of the people from her office would show up soon. So far, there had been no luck of that. "I'm sorry all of this happened. Just between us, I'm here to ensure the safety of this area. I wish I could say more but I hope your worries are alleviated by the knowledge that your race is under our protection. Hopefully I'll be under the protection of your race, today."

The cop looked almost insulted. "What're you saying you're afraid we're not gonna be hospitable?"

"No," Krystal replied, wincing in pain a bit. "Your government feels that knowledge of our existence would cause widespread panic."

"That's 'cause half this country are inbred rednecks," The cop retorted, still covering the entrance to the canopy with his body, leaning back against it and facing upwards.

"Where's the pilot!" One of the medics said, approaching the wreck. "We're going to need to get up there and pull'em down to a stretcher, Officer."

Bailey turned to glance down over his shoulder at the lady EMT on the ground. Her auburn hair was tucked up in scrunchie and her lithe form seemed petite even for the small uniform. "Listen lady," the officer said, "You're not going ta believe what ya see in dis' friggin' cockpit but it ain't a friggin' joke, okay? Get a blanket, this pilot can't be seen by the media, so just get a blanket first."

Instead of arguing, the EMT went back to the ambulance and fetched a blanket. She and her coworker brought a stretcher back and set the foot brake on the wheeling cart then began to climb up the side of the taxi where the cop was standing. He snatched the blanket out of her hand and turned around quickly, covering Krystal's face with it. "Good luck wit' that whole hospitality thing, eh? I din' see nofin'. Not every chump ya meet'll do that for ya's. So… good luck wit' that. I'll be watchin' the newspaper ta see how long it takes to wind up on the front page or the tabloids."

Krystal's words were partially muffled by the blanket he placed over her face. "…Thank you for your kindness and devotion to duty, Mister John Bailey. See if you can contact Agent Jackie Harrison; she's a government agent in some sort of Paranormal Division… I'm not sure which agency."

"Yeah, sure. Jackie Harrison. I feel worse for you than you feel's fer me, ya know?" He said, stepping away to let the EMT's do their job. He then whispered into the woman's ear and said, "Don't let anybody see her face. Don't take that blanket off until you're in the back of the friggin' Ambulance or I'll arrest ya's on the spot, lady. I mean it."

"Don't threaten me, John," The woman said. "And you still owe my sister for the window you broke with your juvenile attitude. Now get out of my way."

"Screw off, Cindy. Debbie and I worked out all our problems on'na phone last night and you's just gotta get on my case about stuff ya don't even know about. Tha's why I hate in-laws."

"_Ex-_in-laws," Cindy replied with haste. "Back up off my job, you're not arresting anyone, John, no move. And don't tell me I don't know my sister," She added, reaching her hands down to check over the joints of the blanketed pilot. She felt along the arms then down over the thighs and knees. She then reached down and felt Krystal's neck through the blanket. Cindy turned to her coworker and said, "It's safe to move'em. They're losing blood, let's set up an IV in the ambulance."

Krystal, from beneath the blanket, said, "Can you transport me to a military hospital, please?"

"Yeah, lady," Cindy replied, pushing her hands down over the top of the blanket to keep it concealed over Krystal's head. Her hands followed the contours of the vixen's ears, causing Cindy to blink but she was quick to assume that it was some sort of helmet liner or piloting gear. Allen, the other medic on the scene, placed his hands beneath Krystal's legs and together, the two began to lift her from the cockpit, trying to keep their footing balanced on the taxicab hood.

"I mean it, Cindy," Said Officer Bailey, "She's protected by the government and it's serious. Don't you dare take that blanket off; if she wants to go to a military hospital, you'd better damn well do it."

"SHUT UP, John!" The woman snapped. "I'm trying to work here and I'm trying _not _to fall from this car, so just shut up!" She then looked up to her partner, Allen, and said, "Okay, I'm moving to the ground, three, two, one.' Krystal could feel herself being gently carried down to a rolling cart with a thin mattress on it. She was placed firmly over the stretcher and a hand was placed over the side of her face to keep the blanket in tact. Cindy couldn't help but use her palm to follow the contours of Krystal's muzzle, beneath the blanket. The vixen could sense the woman's slight alarm, identifying the feeling of a dog's muzzle against her palm, beneath the blanket. She didn't say anything, however. The brake was removed from the cart and they began to wheel her back towards the ambulance.

"Jesus!" John shouted, racing up alongside the stretcher. He snatched a lengthy blue tail that hung off the side and began to stuff it up under Krystal's back, until it was out of sight. "Just get her in the damn Ambulance, wouljda!"

"You're a controlling bastard, aren't you, John?" Cindy said. "No wonder you're not working things out with my sister, now go fill out your reports and take a hike!"

"Whatever!" Bailey shouted in reply. "If you'd hurry the hell up and get her out of here, I'd be a hell of a lot happier!" Krystal couldn't understand why these people felt so comfortable shouting at one another in public, especially since they had a professional courtesy to one another based on their profession. "Just move!"

Krystal could feel the stretcher shuttering softly as the metal legs folded upon contact with the rear lip of the Ambulance. It slid into the back of the vehicle then another EMT locked it into place. "We're good, let's go!" It was Allen's voice. Another door slammed up at the front of the Ambulance and a muffled siren could be heard on the outside of the vehicle. A distorted growl was the air horn, and slowly but surly the vehicle began to move forward.

Cindy knelt down besides Krystal and pulled the blanket free from her face. Almost immediately, her hands went to her mouth, covering her slacked jaw.

Not knowing what else to say, Krystal simply said, "Now you know why the officer was so… high strung."

"Jesus, it's talking!" Cindy exclaimed.

Krystal didn't know if she should be insulted but decided that she wasn't going to let the statement bother her. "I'm Krystal. You're Cindy, he's Allen," She said, pointing to the EMT on the left, with a bloody paw. "I'm also injured, the flight yolk snapped and …" She reached her paw back to the bloody mess a few inches above her left hip. "I'm the only one trying not to be hysterical; please, I'm in serious pain."

"Jesus," The woman said, again, "She talks better than I do! I'm not a veterinary! I can't friggin' operate on animals!"

Krystal suddenly reached up and snatched the woman's hands by the wrists and pulled her forward. The azure-furred vixen crossed the woman's hands one over top of the other and pulled them down over the wound, then shouted in pain. It took incredible will to force such pain on herself but she knew she had to put pressure on the wound to keep herself from bleeding to death. The small piece of metal inside of her body could wait until she was under the hands of a surgeon but _this_ could _not_ wait.

The woman's first instinct was to flinch, pull her hands away and then back away from the freakish woman, but her training kicked in and she leaned forward, pushing her hands against the wound, keeping pressure on the puncture. "What the hell are you; _who_ the hell are you?"

"I'm not from… From Earth," Krystal grunted through her teeth. Allen was shocked too, but shook off the effects and prepared an IV to keep Krystal hydrated. "Your government has instructed for me not to reveal myself to public but I'm here to protect Earth."

"Protect it?" Cindy balked. "We're constantly butting heads with other countries, how are you protecting it?"

"Not from yourselves," Krystal whined softly, over the intense pain in the lower left section of her torso. "From something else. I'm sorry that all of this happened, no one was supposed to know, so that no one would panic."

"As screwed up as that is," Cindy said, shaking her head slowly, "I wouldn't want anyone to know, either. You'd be dead if everyone knew; there are some real weirdoes in this country, who couldn't handle seeing a talking dog-thing as their protector."

"You're scared," Krystal said to her, able to sense it. "Don't be; if anyone should be scared, it should be me! I have a piece of metal in my body, I'm bleeding all over an alien cart, being told that other Humans would want to kill me out of immaturity and I'm separated from my family."

"How in the hell can you speak English?" Cindy asked.

"Telling you might make you feel uncomfortable," Krystal said but she could sense that the woman wanted to know. She finally said, "I feel what you're going through and I understand your words by listening with my mind; I speak them by listening with my heart. Does that make sense?" It was a dressed up way to say that she had extrasensory abilities.

"You're …telepathic," Allen concluded. He then climbed up towards the front of the Ambulance and opened a small door-like section and said, "Take us to Central; we've got to transfer to a chopper, immediately. Do me a favor and radio in that we need one out to the nearest Military hospital; it's a government priority issue, don't argue just do it."

"I ain' arguin'!" The driver argued. Allen closed the section and turned back to the alien animal and Cindy. "How do ya explain that you've got an alien dog pilot from another planet, ya know?"

"I'm… not… really a dog," Krystal said between her clinched teeth, still wincing in terrible pain. "I'm actually related to your planet's vulpine animal."

"Vulpine? I'm not a zoologist, lady," Allen replied.

"A fox; a vixen," Krystal said, pushing her paws down against Cindy's hands only to cry out in pain again. "I can't do this for us both, keep pressure on it."

"There's a piece of metal under my hands," Cindy said in frustration, "I'm doing the best I can, but you'll have internal bleeding if I push too hard, because that piece will cut you up from the inside out. Now, hold still!"

"I'm sorry," Krystal muttered almost woefully.

"You've done nothing wrong," Cindy said, feeling guilty for snapping.

Krystal shook her head slightly, grunting in pain through her teeth. "I'm sorry you're both getting involved in this whole mess, I'm sorry you couldn't know about me before now and I'm sorry my fighter was shot down. I hope you and your sister and that officer patch things up; life is too short to hate one another and there's no way you can understand the satisfaction of making up that she and he feel towards one another. I don't mean to insert my opinion but both Officer Bailey and yourself seem like good people with good hearts and I can't help but want to help every conflict be resolved."

"Be thankful you're not human," Cindy muttered. "That's all we do is fight with one another. It's in our nature and that's why I work twelve hour days in this Ambulance; because we're at conflict with one another every day on the streets."

"That's every species," Krystal muttered, still clinching her teeth together to bite back the pain of her injury. "There is no level of maturity involved, it's all about trusting one another. He'll figure that out in time and maybe they need a councilor."

"…Yeah," Cindy turned away, looking insulted. "I'm listening to marital advice for my sister from a talking fox with blue hair."

"…Fur," Allen said under his breath, biting his tongue and reaching for the IV catheter. "…Sorry, never mind. Anyway, you'll soon learn that we're a little different than your race."

"Not all of us are foxes. Some are amphibians, some are avians; some are feline or canine or equine. Some are ape-like and some are even reptilian. We don't all see eye to eye and are much like yourselves in many ways but I'm the _only_ one hailing from Lylat that is actually telepathic. I'm sorry; I know this is complicated and difficult for both of you. I shouldn't have offered advice because it's not my place to do so; I heard we were taking a … 'chopper' to a military airport. Will it be long?"

"Five more minutes," Cindy said, "Then the chopper ride is about ten minutes. It's best I put the blanket back over you and we keep that tail of yours well hidden. We'll do our best to hurry; for now, save your strength and stay quiet. You're losing a lot of blood and I want you to relax your body as best as you can. The lower your blood pressure, the less you'll bleed. I'm doing my best to keep pressure applied but you have to do your part, too, and relax."

Krystal nodded, trying to close her eyes for a moment. She was in tremendous pain and hoped that they would hurry. For now it was a race against time, as her injury consumed her strength. She couldn't even let herself worry about the cockpit back in the street; that was something the government would have to take care of. The ambulance was quickly joined by a phalanx of black sedans with flashing lights. The government worked diligently to escort the medics to the nearest hospital with a helicopter. Once they arrived, however, they would find that a government owned chopper was waiting. Cindy and Allen, like John Bailey back at the scene of the accident, were immediately pulled aside by agents and taken into custody for interrogation. Agents were ordered _not_ to remove the blanket from Krystal's head and not to remove her from the stretcher she was already laying on.

Her tail remained concealed for the remainder of the trip by helicopter and the blanket kept anyone from asking questions for the rest of the way to the hospital. It was about to become a long afternoon for Krystal and, equally, Fox was left back in Wyoming, worried to death about her. Agents were currently at The Ranch, asking Fox everything he knew about he escort ship he reported and what kind of Human he thought might be inside of it. It didn't last very long and investigators soon realized that Krystal was the one they needed to speak to. She had no idea what she had ahead of her that day…

* * *

Chapter 8: Mass Hysteria.

Twenty-four hours passed since she crashed in downtown New York City. Thirty-seven individual cellular telephone camera pictures as well as a few disposable Kodak cameras from tourists on the scene were able to snap pictures of Krystal. Her tail limp over the side of the stretcher, one snap of them carrying her out of the pod with the blanket whipping in the wind, showing just the side of her face and, basically, up-close pictures of her flight suit.

Some papers were formulating their own opinions while the tabloids were starting their own rumors that coincided with the Space Ape story that was still running every so often over the last four months. But today was the worst atrocity of all; one of the military scrubs took a high definition 8 Megapixel camera into Krystal's room while she was resting in a post-op recuperation room and took five photographs. The pictures were sold to the National Enquirer for 500 dollars to make front page and, simultaneously, the New York Times purchased the photographs for 1,500 dollars a piece. The Washingtonian, a paper in DC that wasn't quite as large as the Washington Post, bought two of the pictures for a thousand dollars each. Finally, two newspapers in California made a bid for three photographs, each. Those papers were set to run that very night for the next morning's edition.

The only paper to turn down the photographs was USAToday. Having found out about the competitors running the pictures, USAToday decided to run a story about a runaway hoax concerning an alien vixen from outer space, claiming that the elaborate scheme was a money making plot. It claimed that the Military wanted to start a new "Area51" ruse so as to take attention away from the fact that it may have been conducting high-end technology experiments. It sited an anonymous tip from the Pentagon that the Alien scheme _was_ in fact a concocted load of malarkey. Only the public would decide what was real or fake when the newspapers ran, first thing the next morning.

A knock was heard at the door and Krystal opened her eyes, gazing up at the wooden structure. "It's open," She called, trying to form the English wording correctly. There were no other humans in the room with her and, because of the distance, she couldn't read the words from their minds. Some of the words were sticking in her memory which, after four months, made things much easier in consideration.

Agent Jackie Harrison stepped into the room. Krystal's muzzle tugged slightly into a smile at the corners, welcoming the sight of someone she's known for a few months. The woman had her military ID badge on but the words were foreign to Krystal's eyes. It read the agent's name, Jacquelyn Harrison, and her agent identification number. There was a holographic American Flag on the badge, so that it couldn't be counterfeited and hung from a strap around her neck.

She approached the vixen, who lay in a bed with an IV hooked up to the backside of her paw. She sat down on a nearby stool and said, "So I hear they gave you a successful blood transfusion with that of a fox from Earth."

"Yes," Krystal replied softly. "Who'd have known they had so many blood types; one, however, matched and after a full hour of extensive comparison by computer, they determined it safe."

"I'm pleased," Harrison said. "I recall you telling me that you were of a different species than Mister McCloud and so I worried that we wouldn't be able to find you a donor, even from the rest of your team."

"Now Earth is a part of me in a small way," Krystal said with a thin smile. "What brings you by, Jackie?" Krystal already knew the answer to her own question and, oddly enough, Jackie knew Krystal already knew. It was just one of those rhetorical questions that were asked as a means to segue into the next part of the conversation.

"Fox is worried," she began. "But that's just stating the obvious. I'm not the most empathetic person and, hell, you're em_pathic_, but it's pretty obvious that he's in love with you."

"He has a strange way of showing it sometimes," Krystal said, "But the feelings of love are mutual and I'm lucky to have it returned because I fell in love against my better judgment and professional opinion."

"Sometimes it just happens," Jackie said.

"It's a shame you've not experienced it yet," Krystal said with a frown. "But there _is_ someone you talk to, who you're compatible with. It's a shame you keep avoiding him to advance your career. A true-love mate will _help_ you become all that you can be, and some subconscious part of you believes he's capable of being that person."

"Telepathic people would make wonderful head shrinks." Jackie grinned. She knew that Krystal didn't have to know the term to know what was being said just be_cause_ she was an empathic person.

"My clairvoyance sometimes causes people to distrust me," Krystal explained. "Have you ever tried playing cards with your team? Maybe, maybe not, but _my_ team doesn't trust me when playing cards. It's worse in some cases but that's just an average, everyday situation."

"I can imagine. You'd win every time," Jackie chuckled.

Krystal shrugged lightly, wincing in pain from the operation she'd had on her tummy area. "I will admit, it's difficult to simply turn off the ability when it's second nature to you. It's like asking a great public speaker to give an orientation with nothing but gestures."

"I suppose so; it's a sense and being asked not to use it," Jackie paused then continued after a moment's thought. "It's like asking you to go to a music concert and not listen to anything, or walking into a garden and being asked not to pay any attention to the smell of flowers."

"Indeed, it's part of me and difficult to ignore," mused the azure-furred vixen. Her eyes lowered for a moment then returned to Jackie and said, "You're here because there has been a leak, where an American newspaper inquired to the Pentagon about my existence. You're worried that the Public will find out because now a cop and some ambulance operators and a military hospital staff now know of my presence. It's only a matter of time, hmm?"

"You're good," Jackie said. "It was USAToday that asked, followed by two other papers. So, we used USAToday to start a story that will hopefully discredit the article being run by other papers."

"It's dishonest," Krystal said with a soft sigh. "I hate that about the Human culture. One group thinks they better know how to run the lives of another group and so they practice their experiment with manipulation, lies and concealment. Why? To what end and for what reason?"

"These people vote their leader into office," Jackie said. "They then ask that leader to make responsible decisions that are in _their_ best interest. They spend the next 4 years criticizing that leader but they still trust him or her to make decisions that _are_ in their best interest. Keeping them from learning about an alien invasion that would cause mass panic would certainly be in their best interest. If the next leader, a few years from now, wants to tell everyone about aliens then that is his prerogative. However," She glanced back to Krystal and tilted her head. "I think you know the rest."

"I understand your points," Krystal replied with a slow nod. "And you're about to say that how this leader handles people finding out is also part of his prerogative but the truth of the matter is, we want the people of earth to be prepared to stop Andross and resist him… incase _we_ lose. The support is just as important as the help your government is giving us by helping to repair our ships and keep our Arwings' power supplies full of energy."

Krystal gave a lopsided smile. "A child on a sports field always plays harder when they know their parents, family and even friends are watching."

"True," Jackie nodded. "Just remember, if or possibly when the rest of the race finds out about you… some will hate you for no reason. Some will want you dead or off their planet. With over _six billion_ personalities, not everyone will agree to your presence."

"I know," Krystal said with a soft sigh. "It's natural to fear the unknown," She mused softly. "But we can't hide forever. Our carrier is too large and Andross is too dangerous of a threat for us to contain in pure secrecy. Cover-ups only last so long before the truth comes out."

"It's already out," Jackie said. "Subterfuge stifles mass hysteria. You could see an article about your crash, from yesterday, on DisInfo dot Com, Krystal. There is a cellular camera picture of your space suit. It's a deadly serious game our politicians play and only one third of them even know about StarFox."

"You want to make history, right?" Krystal asked. Jackie nodded and so Krystal continued, adding, "No one knows and if they never do and our visit is forgotten, you never will. If it's not recorded, it's not technically historical. When humans join the intergalactic community, the first series of events will be the historical part and it may go to a man, unfairly. What if another woman met extra terrestrials a hundred years ago but it was covered up? Would you feel cheated that it may go to a man who was seen shaking hands with the new comers, a hundred years from now?"

"While you have a point, I have a mandate," Jackie sighed softly. "That is, protect you, protect our people's interests and protect peace and freedom. It's in that order, and freedom is the last thing on my list because it's the first priority of everyone else. So, with everyone else protecting freedom, my duty becomes to make other things my priority but freedom still has to be on my list. So, you're safe," She said, ticking off one finger then adding another, saying, "Next, I protect the American people and their interests, then I ensure that peace is maintained between Humans and Cornerians and finally, I ensure that nothing threatens freedom."

"Freedom is pretty important in America, on Earth, isn't it?" Krystal asked.

"It's the foundation of our culture," She said. "It may only be a subculture as far as human beings go, but it's our most important and prized culture," Jackie explained with a serious nod and firm tones.

"There is an alien out there that threatens everything you stand for," Krystal told her. "He wants to murder millions and enslave the hard working few who remain. He wants to use them as slave labor to prepare an invasion of Lylat and the planet of Corneria. He wants to make a legacy for himself, known as an all powerful conqueror and secondly, as a leading scientific mind. He's very advanced and has weapons that cause nuclear bombs to pale in comparison. He creates weapons that use gravity inversely, in a way even I cannot begin to comprehend. I can't even _fathom_ his dreams. He takes joy in turning the beautiful inside out and he's a dangerous man leading a dangerous army into your unsuspecting lives. Without your full support, we may not beat him, unfortunately."

"Let's just hope that you do," Jackie said. "I read your report this morning, Krystal. We lost track of the escort ship but one of our big brains in the Intel department suggests it could be the Russian Prime Minister. The man's alibi has not lined up and our spy satellites tell a story different from the one he suggests. This means that he could be leaking information about StarFox and your capabilities to the enemy."

"Andross will spare us no mercy," Krystal said. "He wants us dead, we want him dead and he's been preparing for quite some time. He was ready to take Earth in the past but now that he knows we're here, he's probably been waiting for the last four months to bide his time and ready his pilots with more ships, advanced weapons and a great deal of planning. He's going to be tough to beat."

"I hope not," Jackie said with a frown. "Our tabloids seem to know more than we do about this guy."

Krystal frowned. "They're not credible because those tabloids print the impossible and silly stories for amusement."

"Lucky for you guys, huh?" Jackie chuckled. If only she knew what was about to be printed in tomorrow's edition of newspaper, around the entire country. If only _anyone_ knew, Government officials would probably be working on a way to stop the presses before they rolled. Tomorrow was truly an angry storm, just beyond the range of metaphorical Doppler, ready to strike with a precision, accuracy and quickness that the world would never know what hit it. After all, this night was the cusp of Earth losing its intergalactic innocence. A wakeup call was just hours from going public.

* * *

The President of the United States of America stood in the Oval Office, facing the window behind his desk. The window gave him a clear view of the lawn and sometimes that lush green spread helped him think. His hand was pensively placed at his chin and he just remained quiet in thought. Behind him, several military Generals were lined up in front of his desk with the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of Homeland Security. They were all awaiting his next spoken word. 

Finally, after letting them sweat for a few moments, the President sighed and simply said, "I'll prepare a State Of The Union Address. I've been working on it for four months in the event I would have to give it; I didn't want to give anything less than an absolutely historical sounding speech and," He trailed off, turning around to face the six men in his presence. "We have an Alien presence that has come to protect us from an Alien Invasion. The word is out, the people will trust us more if it comes from my mouth tonight at 8pm as opposed to the newspaper tomorrow morning at 6am."

"While I'm inclined to agree with that statement, we still have the," The secretary of homeland security was hushed with a single way of the President's hand.

"I hate to go all '_Kennedy'_ on you," The President said, "But they're going to find out sooner or later, especially if StarFox loses."

The secretary of Defense frowned thoughtfully and interjected with, "There is a lot of pressure for them to pull their weight, especially with one of their pilots having crashed in New York City yesterday."

"Yes, I heard," The President mumbled softly. "Of course, that's the reason we're in this mess; I'll prepare the speech. I don't want to hear any Goddamn complaints from _any_ of you. Even my _wife_ disagrees with my decision to make a speech about this."

"Maybe you should listen to her," The Air Force General grumbled softly.

"Maybe _you_ should get out of my office, or run for it yourself, in a few years, Ted," The President snapped, narrowing his eyes a bit. "Go on. You're dismissed, Theodore, now go." The Airforce General balled his fists up then walked away, just like that. The President turned back to the group and simply said, "Prepare for Mass Hysteria. Just incase. No matter what is happening in the world, no matter how large the biggest news story is on CNN dot com, it's going to be a massive cover story and we're going to be bombarded with questions and demands. As your commanding officer and Commander In Chief, I want all of you to be patient; everyone has the right to be upset and have an opinion. Bite your tongue if people point the finger at you; that's a damn order."

"Yes sir," said the three remaining military leaders in Unison. Admiral, General of the Army and General of the Marines, the three men quickly saluted but the President seemed disinterested in their attention and turned back towards the window with a sigh. "There will be people who want to claim fame by killing Aliens. There will be a lot of weird backlash and strange rebuttal to this situation but all of you are ordered to keep the location secret. If the press wants an interview, there will be highly classified special arrangements made. I'm stating the obvious here, boys. Let's not screw this up. After tomorrow, this administration will be known as the Alien Administration." The President folded his hands behind his back, just gazing out over the lawn.

The Secretary of Defense pulled his lower lip in between his teeth then added, "There are going to be a lot of angry complaints concerning the last four months," He paused then added, "This is bigger than Watergate, Monica Lewinsky, Hiroshima and has twice the worldwide repercussions that 9-11 had on America alone. May I suggest we do the State of the Union in Wyoming and begin a televised interview with the girl-alien in New York?"

The President glanced over his shoulder, paused, then said, "That might be the best idea you've had today, Bill."

"Thank you sir," Said the Defense Secretary.

* * *

Falco, Miyu and Fay were given the green light to perform the next patrol. As the trio launched from The Ranch into the sky, the Lynx couldn't help but notice a strange distortion on the ground. She inverted the fighter, glancing up through the canopy at it, but couldn't quite see what was going on down on the ground, at the edge of The Ranch. "What in the hell is going on, down there?" She wondered aloud, leaving Falco and Fay to look for themselves. 

Falco used a high power digital camera installed by NASA to zoom up on the group down below. His beak parted just slightly and he blinked a few times to make sure he was seeing the visual on the dashboard monitor correctly. "Jeeze Laweeze, it's a bunch of humans, lined up at the gates to The Ranch. It's got to be about three hundred people down there. Does this mean that people have found out from Krystal or something?"

"Krystal wouldn't talk," Fay interjected. "I wonder if Fox realizes those people are there. I didn't hear anything from the human guards about canceling a patrol; what do you think it could be?"

"I wish I knew. Let's just do our job," Falco suggested. "C'mon girls, I want to run the navigation points backwards today, just to shake things up." He punched his accelerator and the girls followed…

Down below, Fox McCloud was pacing in the main barracks, passing back and forth before the videophone communications device. "I'm glad she's recovering well," he said softly, adding, "But are you really sure this is a good idea, Mister President?"

"Fox," said the man on the screen, "She's best suited for it and we've just sent one of our men to ask her personally. If she says no, then we'll talk to you. It's easier for Americans to see her speaking their language and might make the shock-factor a little less potent."

"One of the guards reported a throng of people at the gates of your little 'alien themepark', Sir," Fox explained, shaking his head slowly. He stopped his pacing and turned to the screen then said, "They're journalists… _a lot_ of journalists. I don't know how they found out but someone paid someone and I just want to assure you, right now, that Krystal wouldn't have told them about this place."

"No," The President said, reassuringly, "The Press found out and put some things together. It's no surprise that the Wyoming press has been watching the heavy Military presence in their state. I'm sure they added it all up and now they want answers. _Do not_ go out there and talk to them, until _after_ we've had our televised interview with Krystal. After that, you may go out there and answer _all_ of their questions. There's nothing left to hide."

"I'm glad to hear that," Fox said. "We didn't agree with it and I'm sorry that it took Krystal's accident to bring this out. At any rate, I have Slippy building a translator into a public announcement system… Just in case, of course."

"Of course," The President said, nodding slightly. "Their questions could become a little scathing, so be careful, Mister McCloud. Also, I suggest using caution just incase there are some redneck nutjobs out there, trying to kill an Alien. They act quickly and I don't want to hear about your death. It would complicate things, dreadfully."

"I'm inclined to agree," Fox mused. "Please, when will Krystal be back in Wyoming?"

The President glanced down at a piece of paper he had in his hand, scanning for the answer to Fox's question. He then looked back up and said, "Tomorrow morning, but the doctor recommends that she wait at least a week until she's back into a cockpit."

Fox nodded slowly, feeling rather relieved that it would only be one more day without her. He was obviously worried and had made no secret of the fact that they were in a relationship, so he was pretty sure the President knew he was worried out of love. "You've been patient, Sir. I hope your people are equally patient. Thank you and I'll expect to receive her tomorrow. I'll take the recommendation of the doctors and wait one week before I put her back into an Arwing. Good luck with your interview; is there anyway I can speak to her before it begins?"

"I'll send an encrypted message with her phone number at the Military Hospital, Mister McCloud," The President said. "You'll have a little while to speak to her while I give a State Of The Union Address. Just make sure you tell her to be honest, open and pleasant. All eyes are on her and nobody knows what to expect. This is a situation that was unplanned for. Nobody is prepared for this and it's already a large mess. I'm sorry my planet wasn't ready for this. Anyway, I have to go and get ready for this speech. I invite you to watch it as well."

McCloud frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "Thanks, I'll do that after I finish speaking to Krystal. Take care, Mister President. Good luck," Fox added.

"Same to you, Mister Fox McCloud." The President's end of the line concluded and the White House logo appeared on the screen with a blue background. It lasted a few seconds then the videophone screen went dark. Fox turned to Slippy who was a few feet away, and said nothing. All he could do was shrug.

Slippy spoke slowly and carefully, so as not to stammer, saying, "I'm sure Krystal will be fine. Go on and call her, I'll get back to work on the public announcement translation device, Fox."

"Thanks, Slip," Fox replied. He stuffed his paws into his pants pockets then said, "This could get weird; I've never been an ambassador before and I'm not a very good diplomat or politician. Anyway, I'll feel better when I know she's okay."

"Yeah," Slippy nodded. He then turned and left the room so that Fox could check the encrypted messages so he could contact Krystal.

* * *

Krystal glanced over at the glass window that lead into the hallway. She sensed uneasiness and tension on the other side and it worried her. Jackie Harrison came back into the room and sat down on the edge of her bed. "I've got news, Krystal." 

Reading the agent like a book, the vixen simply said, "Tell the President that I would love to, Jackie." To her words, Agent Harrison nodded with a slight smile. She hooked a thumb over her shoulder at the window and opened her mouth, looking for the right words to say but Krystal spoke _for_ her. "They're nervous, Jackie. I'm in pain and they're worried that if I die in their hospital, will an invasion force overrun earth and all sorts of other weird things for people to worry about. I'm glad this will happen today but I'm sorry it had to happen this way."

"I blame the press but it's our fault for trying to hide things," Jackie replied with a light shrug. "The President knows his reputation is on the line here and the fact that he's going to face this really says a lot. The world is going to change as we know it, Krystal."

"The future is here," Krystal said with a wan smile. "All you can do is embrace it and … hope that we succeed against Andross."

"That would be best, yes." Harrison lowered her eyes, gazing down at Krystal's tail. She then said, "You know what's funny?"

"Yes?" Krystal asked, seeing that Jackie's mind was in ten places at once.

"A small group of humans have made it fashionable to pretend they're animals," Jackie chuckled lightly. "They're called 'Furries' and enjoy celebrating the thought of a creature like yourself… sorry, bad choice of words… a _person_ like yourself. An 'anthropomorphic' or whatever the term is; they find it fascinating to dress up as Animals or represent themselves or their alter ego as an animal. Sentient and able to communicate with one another… basically exactly what you and your team are. The Government has been monitoring them a little bit more since you and the rest of StarFox has landed a few months back. They're an interesting subculture, to be sure. When they find out about your existence a lot of them are going to be interested."

"That's…" Krystal trained off, placing her paw to her muzzle. "…Adorable, really." What else could be said? She couldn't help but smile at the thought of it. "And you've done research on them?"

"Last night," Jackie admitted. "Just looked at a few pages on the Internet after learning that the Government was taking a very slight interest in the subculture over the last four months. I figured I'd better do my homework and see what everyone else is researching and now I'm curious how people like that will react to finding out about your existence."

"I'm sure they'll be pleased that their fantasies are a reality in some measure," Krystal mused, adding, "I hope I live up to their expectations, Jackie. I would hate to disappoint _anyone_." She gave a smile then added, "What brought this up?"

"Oh," Jackie shrugged a bit then lowered her eyes back to Krystal's tail. "I guess I was wondering what it must be like to have…_that_," She said, nodding to the fluffy appendage."

"I love it," Krystal chuckled. "I can't imagine what it would be like being without it. It's part of me and part of my personality. I can give it a shake to grab Fox's attention, I can wrap it around myself when I'm cold or snuggle up with it when I'm lonely. I can brush it when I'm feeling sullen and accessorize it when I'm feeling fashionable. It's important to me and I almost mourn you for not having one of your own."

"That's really… rather interesting," Jackie said with a slight chuckle. "So you'll do this interview with the President after his speech, huh?" She asked.

"I actually look forward to it," Krystal replied. The vixen glanced over at the telephone on a table next to the bed, just as it began to ring. "Hmm," She reached for the handset and asked, "Should I?"

"You act like you expected it to ring just as it did," Jackie replied. "So it's probably for you."

"Perhaps." She then lifted the receiver from the cradle and said, "…Hello?" When she heard that it was Fox on the other end, she began speaking to him in the Cornerian language that Jackie failed to comprehend. Her face lit up and Jackie could see that Krystal looked very pleased to be speaking to whoever was on the other end. The agent assumed that it was the vixen's boyfriend and stood up from the bed. Krystal glanced up, placed a paw over the receiving piece as if she already knew how the object operated, then said, "I'll see you again, Agent Harrison. As always, you've been a … 'sweetheart' and I'm glad you've visited."

Jackie smiled a bit then said, "See you soon. Feel better… and be ready just incase we have Mass Hysteria breakout during all of this."

"I shall. Be well!" Krystal said, returning to the phone conversation with Fox on the archaic style telephone device. Jackie stepped out of the room, closed the door behind herself and shooed several nurses who were hiding on the other side of the door, listening in. Krystal knew that things would become interesting in the next day or two but right now, her mind was on Fox McCloud.

* * *

A/N: _This is a light variation from some of the main story plot added in with other old stuff from the original. From here on out, we'll be sending the team up to the CoreBase for an all-out assault… which is where the rest of my original story got weird… I originally called the story "The Stones" or "jeweled stones" or some sort of crap like that. You'll see why, soon enough. Lol. Meeting humans was NEVER the main plot! It's a subplot that builds up to the ensuing madness. I see that more people like THIS story than some of my others (such as Nothing Passed Tomorrow, Greatest Of Three Evils, etc) … for some reason that amuses me, so yes, I'll finish it ;) But I'm nearly finished a chapter of Reflections of a new Generation! At any rate, me and the four other furries I'm living with are about to move into a new house October 10th. It's been busy with the move and stuff, but anyway… I've reached to where this story has been retold at the first paragraph of THIS chapter. Now I'm rewriting it as I go, but it's being re-written off of the original three-ring binder (without horrible spelling mistakes that make ANYone cringe.) _

_THANK you all for reading this, I'm really surprised at the feedback I've gotten thusfar! See ya soon!_

Oh, _and this is been difficult to re-write this story and maintain my original writing style... So, at some point, I'll try posting a "one chapter" story of something I typed up in 1996 in my original writing style, as a young writer, with absolutely no experience, when I was 15 or so. You'll all cringe if I do, though. XD_

_I keep wanting to fix things as I go through the re-write on this story while TRYING to keep the style true to my old technique but I'm not doing very well, leaving in a bunch of mistakes lol. A third of this story was written in "Play Script" format, too. A buddy of mine, Matt Morris, was helping to edit it as I went through, so that it wasn't utterly horrible. I mean we're talking way back in the freakin' day, here. You know? LOL anyway, I'll put up chapter 9 and 10 soon. Also, Greatest Of Three Evils will be finished by monday or tuesday, most likely. Stuff. _

_-kit_


	5. Chapter 9 by itself

A/N: _I forgot – I already had this chapter written – might as well post it while I'm working on Reflections of a NEW GENERATION, right? I mean; this chapter was already done, after all. xD_

_Besides, some of you guys wanted to know how the INTERVIEW between Krystal and the President would play out, now that the team was exposed to the American public. Getting shot down in NEW YORK CITY does tend to cause an upstart, y'know? I wonder if I should use the original plot from my childhood days... it's pretty cliche and over-done... Andross found a stone off another planet in this system and built a ray-gun that shoots mind-control beams through this stone and reprograms our heroes to attack one another... I mean, how lame can ya get, right? Yeah, that's the direction I originally went for... I dunno' if I'll do it when I get that far into the story... we'll see how I feel about it when I finally get there, lol. Give me a break though, we're talking 1994 and it was a goofy kiddie plot!_

_So yeah, MY NEXT UPDATE WILL BE Reflections of a NEW GENERATION. I'm just posting this to tide you guys over while I work on the good stuff. After all, this story stinks and it's goofy, but it's fun and amusing to write... Sadly to say, all the action starts back up in Chapter 10 but I've not gotten around to writing it, even though I usually do TWO chapters per posting for this story... but I was tired of the NINEth Chapter just SITTING there on my hard drive. So, yeah, read it y'all! And for pete's sake, 9 chapters and I've only got 13 reviews to show for it? Can I get some love, haters, flamers or just general greetings, gang? Is anyone even READING this story? LET ME KNOW! lol_

* * *

Chapter -9- 

"Back to Business."

* * *

_Newport News, Virginia_

_Deck of the Gerald R. Ford 'Super Carrier'_

_20:17 – sunset_

**"The CVN-78 simply isn't ready, Sir."** The young commander coughed into his right hand then glanced back up at the O-10, four-star Admiral of the United States Navy. His gaze shifted to the right, watching a stoic sailor one hundred feet away. The eighteen-year-old kid stood tall with a rifle slung at forty-five degrees towards the ground. The commander's eyes returned to those of the Navel Admiral, dressed down in denim pants and a polo shirt.

Jason Simms, the highest-ranking officer in the United States Navy, brought both of his hands to either side of his face as if rubbing away tension. His short gray hair seemed somewhat tousled by the soft wind that rushed across the empty flight deck. "But she wouldn't sink, now would she? She'd simply be defenseless during her voyage. At the very least, _that _is your _real _worry, right? Think about it, young man: She's not even in service, so her trip wouldn't even go down in the logs. Let me ask you something, Commander Watson: Do you believe in aliens?"

"Like the one mentioned in tonight's State of the Union Address, Admiral?" The Commander shrugged; he'd missed the airing of the speech and so he knew very little of what happened earlier in the evening.

"That puts quite a dampener on my use of that '_metaphorical, hypothetical question_' now doesn't it?" The admiral smiled in reply to the young man's head bobbing. "I was in the President's office earlier today. It was a circus in there. I took a chopper down here and now I'm standing with you. Simple, right? You don't even _want _to know what's going to be in the tabloids tomorrow. The newspapers will be working overtime tonight believe me. The State of the Union address began less than an hour ago." He shrugged then said, "Listen here, Watson. You're looking to become a ship's Captain one day, aren't you?"

"Admiral, Sir – are you threatening to hold back my career?" Watson face-faulted.

"Quite the opposite," said the admiral. Jason Simms, successor to Michael Mullen, theoretically owned the Navy. The highest-ranking officer, as there was no Fleet Admiral except in times of declared war… he had the ability to make almost any decision regarding the United States Navy that he wished. He answered directly to the Pentagon and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. "If this operation is a success, you'll be the Captain of the Gerald R. Ford, Commander Watson."

Daniel Watson's eyes widened. "But the mission is to take the Ford out to sea _before_ she's finished? Is it a military testing experiment?"

The admiral changed gears in an attempt to keep from being blunt, just to save face. "The Delta Star was a _test experiment_," said Simms. "Brilliant Eyes and Brilliant Pebbles… _that_ was a test experiment. 'CHECMATE' was a …_test_ experiment, Commander. MIRACL was an _experiment_. The Mobile THEL programs for F-22 Raptors and Neutral Particle Beam accelerators are _all_ military 'experiments', Watson. What I'm asking is simple; you'd be taking an assembled, unarmed barge out to sea." The admiral placed his hand on the commander's shoulder and guided him towards the conning tower. "Let's go talk in private."

"When would it take place, Sir?"

Simms turned to the commander and said, "Dan, right? That's your first name? Daniel?" He waited for a nod of conformation before continuing. "Listen, Dan. Moving the _George Washington_ or sending _Big-E_ on a cruise would get more attention because they're big ships. You don't move a Nimitz class ship with three _thousand_ crewmembers from Virginia to Japan without senators, congressmen and three thousand families watching your every movement."

Watson's eyes widened again. "…But the Ford doesn't _technically exist_ for five more years."

The admiral smiled. "Danny, my boy, you've just had an epiphany."

The commander quirked a brow at his commanding officer then added, "And because you're down here in a polo-shirt and jeans, _this_ isn't happening either. So, because this isn't happening, it's not even 'top secret' status… it's _really_ more like, "never happened" status. Is that about the gist of things?"

"You'll make an excellent Captain one day soon, Daniel Watson." Admiral Simms opened a door leading inside. The two passed a contractor, welding a rail into the bulkhead. They continued up a flight of stairs and into an abandoned hallway.

At the end of the hall, Jason opened a door to a conference room and motioned for the commander to step in first. He followed the younger man inside, shut the door behind himself and sat down on the edge of a wooden conference table. "I'll be frank with you, Watson… You'll be taking a skeleton crew, hand selected by me. Most of them will be engineers and specialists whose only objective is to run the ship and keep it going. You'll have _one_ flight deck crew. They'll prep and run a squadron of Top Secret F-22 Raptors with classified experimental weaponry. You'll have a team of F-35's for backup. I'll give you _two_ H-60's as no ship should be without their Sea Hawks. EA-6b Prowlers are also imperative. I'll give you three. I'll also give you Vikings but I doubt that submarines will be a problem during this run; better safe than sorry but regardless, all your extra planes will be piloted by your skeleton crew of fighter pilots if the situation requires it. I'm only going to give you one Hawkeye and one Greyhound so please… only use them in an emergency. This should dis-inform media questioning should anyone notice while you're out at sea."

"So we _do_ have an Air Wing defense and some pilots to keep the Ford safe but what's the _mission_?"

Simms shifted his weight on the desk and sighed. "Arwings."

"Yes, sir, and I appreciate being given an Air Wing but what are my orders?"

Jason Simms shook his head and smiled. Now that they were in private, it was time to be blunt. "I assumed the same thing when I heard the term for the first time, too. No, an _Arwing_ is what the aliens fly. A classified partnership with a group of engineers in Japan is going to _build one_ from parts recovered all over the east coast. You'll take a small group of men from Lockheed and Northup Grumman and cruise out to Japan. They'll sit down with the Japanese team and, under the guidance of two aliens… they will build a fighter to replace one that was shot down in the atmosphere above New York City. It will be constructed on your flight deck and, temporarily, these aliens will reside on the Ford because the public spotlight is now on all eight of them. We're moving them from their _current_ base of operations so that their location isn't compromised. Now that people have something to look for, it's only a matter of time before someone notices something in the skyline above American soil and starts asking questions or connecting dots. Putting them out at sea – away from the rest of the world – is our best solution. Making the entire situation 'not really happen' is part of that solution… so we're using the Ford to do it since it doesn't 'technically exist' yet."

"And you want me to be in charge?" Watson canted his head to the left with a curious gaze.

"The Ford isn't in service so she's not a ship. No ship and no Captain mean that there is no mission. No mission means 'no evidence'. If anyone asks why the Ford is moving from Newport News, you can say it's being used as a floating barge to test some new gear for the Raptors. Tell them it's all top secret; disinformation is acceptable."

Watson offered a sort of grin. "I'll just tell them we're degaussing the ship."

Jason feigned a groan. "I can see it now… the Philadelphia Experiment of 2010. Listen, that's fine. But if your idea of disinformation involves humor, at least keep a straight face, please." After a moment, he gave the commander a slight grin then slid off the edge of the table. "I consider myself a pretty good guy. After Mullen left and made his way up to the Joint Chiefs' table, I realized that the move from 'Vice' to 'Admiral' was going to be a humbling experience. Then all _this_ happens. When I got the call this morning to take them under my wing, I thought all hell would break loose. The thing is, I had the best possible solution… give them a barge that doesn't exist with the protection they'll need to stay in business. We'll be flying two of them back and forth between their current location and your ship… regularly."

"…May I ask why?" Watson ran his fingers through his hair then reached for the hem of his uniform, gave a tug to relieve it of wrinkles, and frowned.

The admiral turned to face the wall; his eyes studied an elegant etching – an artist's rendition of the completed Gerald Ford. "They're instrumental in helping our people repair their _mother ship_. It's under ground somewhere out in the country and now they'll be pivotal in helping us build one of their fighters. They'll be moving back and forth quite often to do both jobs. Thus the reason I'm giving you _two_ Sea Hawks for your skeleton crew. Not every member will be allowed to interact with these aliens. But all of them will be aware of what's going on and all of them will be given the strictest orders for quiet. Going public, taking pictures or anything else will be considered an act of treason, punishable by… well, you know how that works." Jason walked back to the door and glanced over his shoulder. "There's just one more thing, Daniel."

"Sir?"

"I'll be sending your contractors home. We're bringing in a special team at Zero-Six hundred hours. They'll finish the important installations that the Ford will need to launch by Monday."

"Monday?" Daniel blinked in surprise. "That's only seven days, Admiral."

"They're that good," said Simms with a wan grin. "I understand this ship had its Nuclear Reactors installed recently."

"Aye, Sir. They were put into place two months ago but they've not been brought online, Admiral. We don't have any Nuclear Techs assigned to this ship yet, either. They finished the Communications section yesterday morning. Other than our CIWS we only have security personnel; a few corner-mounted Phalanxes aren't going to be enough, Sir. This ship is nowhere ready to be at sea right now… one week isn't enough time, Admiral; the electromagnetic catapults are active and in testing for only _two_ of our Cat-Tracks not to mention…"

Simms quieted the commander with a simple gesture. "Relax, Daniel. This team will have it ready in one week from today. They'll install forward-mounted High Velocity Rail guns, a Mobile THEL system at each corner and a state-of-the-art medical rehabilitation center."

"…State of the art? Isn't that a little unnecessary, Sir?"

"Daniel," said the Admiral, tilting his head slightly. "One of the aliens crashed. Her flight yoke impaled her through the torso. She was lucky to live and she'll need a rehabilitation center so that she can fly the new fighter when we finish building it."

"_She_, Sir? So the aliens have genders like human beings?" Daniel brought his right hand up over his heart, running his fingers over the plate that read, 'Watson' on his chest. His fingers dipped into his breast pocket and he withdrew a pack of cigarettes, which had a lighter wedged into the package.

Simms ignored the question; he knew that Watson would have the next few weeks to find out the answers to inquiries and personal curiosities of that nature. "Commander, it's your job to protect these aliens _and_ protect the team designated to build this new technology because it will revolutionize _everything_ on this planet from here on out. Their survival will be imperative. This technology will usher in a new era of space exploration and self defense just to name a few things."

"Why are they even here, Admiral?"

Simms opened his mouth to speak then paused. "It's… complicated. I'd rather the aliens tell you what's going on. Also, I'll be assigning a personal team of experts to live with them over the next few weeks. There will be a CIA Agent named Jackie Harrison, personal guards and others deemed necessary by the Pentagon and the President. You'll be in command but there will be people aboard that will not only out rank you, but have the authority to veto your commands if they feel it's necessary."

"When do we leave Virginia, Admiral?"

"Tuesday morning at Zero-Hundred hours. I want you picking up the Japanese team from Yokosuka and you'll use the Pacific Ocean as your testing ground. When the injured alien has her new ship, they will begin training. We've been building advanced weaponry that takes the human imagination, mixed with their technology, and pushes it all to the next level. They'll be testing this in preparation for something larger because it's our job to help them the way they've been helping us this far."

"Sir?"

Jason lowered his eyes then reached up and ran his fingers through the peppered hair starting at the receded section of his forehead. "We owe our lives to them, Dan. Like I said, they'll give you all the information but remember… You have to treat them with respect. I'm sure they don't get very much of that from most of our race and they're probably questioning themselves as to why they're going out of their way to help us but… the fact remains, we do owe them a great deal. That's the bottom line."

* * *

**Krystal glanced from Agent Harrison to the flat panel display and nodded** to the image of the President on the screen. She looked over to the television camera on her right and offered a light smile. "I wish I had better information about Andross but the fact remains: We came here ready to fight him and he didn't expect any resistance." 

Her eyes studied the large contraption on the cameraman's shoulder for a moment. It looked like some sort of shoulder-mounted weapon and had lettering and pictures on the side. The network's colorful logo followed two numbers and the letters "HD" on the object's side. The President began to speak again, which gave the man a moment to reposition himself. He knelt down on one knee and angled the lens at Krystal.

A few seconds later, the President grew quiet and an orange light illuminated above the lens. She blinked, quickly scanned Jackie's mind for whatever the President had last said, then cleared her throat. "No, Mister President. The people of Earth have very little to worry about at this moment." She gazed into the lens, knowing full well that hundreds of millions of human beings would be gazing back at her eyes in due time. "I was shot down by an enemy. It only makes sense that Andross would have sent his absolute best pilot to escort the shuttle back to Earth. When the United States Government finds out who was aboard, a lot of questions will be answered. The thing is, I let myself get too close to the shuttle and was concentrating on my extra sensory abilities. I wanted to see who was on that shuttle… I dropped my guard because I put curiosity first and foremost. I _won't_ be shot down again, so there isn't any real need to worry whether or not Andross' pilots are better. Besides," she paused, glanced at Jackie then turned back to the camera with a grin.

"After living on Earth for the last few months, I can honestly say that Andross has seriously underestimated the drive and willpower of your race. Should he defeat Team StarFox, I assure you that the People of Earth will stand against him. Now that you know what to expect, you'll be ready to stop him… but Team StarFox has defeated him on more than one occasion in the past, so please… don't panic." The light on the camera went dark and she turned back to the flat screen, listening to the President's reply.

"You've sustained quite an injury and I appreciate the time you've taken to speak with me and with the people of Planet Earth, Krystal." He then shifted his eyes to give the illusion of looking from Krystal to Jackie for the viewers. "Agent Harrison, you've made history on behalf of the planet. You've become an ambassador between two worlds. I hope you'll continue to stand alongside of these visitors hailing from the distant planet of Corneria. We have special arrangements in the works for both of you. Are there any final words before we conclude our interview, Ms. Krystal?"

"No, Sir. I appreciate the time you've taken to speak with me. It was a pleasure to introduce myself to your world. As acting ambassador of Corneria, I would like to say to you and to everyone, welcome to the galactic community, Earth. I know that sounds somewhat cliché, but…" She broke into a soft smile. "Nevertheless, welcome. And thank you for being such a thoughtful host during our time here."

"My pleasure, Krystal. We're going to go live to the leader of the team, Fox McCloud. Mister McCloud, are you with us?"

The monotone voice of a computerized translator came over the speakers and Fox McCloud's image filled the flat panel screen at the foot of her bed. "Yes, Mister President. But before we talk, I just wanted to say one thing to Krystal."

Krystal saw the camera go active from out of the corner of her eye. Caught of guard, she felt herself grow somewhat flush. "Y-yes, Fox?"

"I love you." McCloud grinned. He then cleared his throat, which didn't register over the monotone translator. He took a slow breath, licked his lips and said, "Mister President, it's been an honor to live in the United States over the last few months. But I'll be honest, Sir. We want to finish this mission soon so that we can return home. Personality wise, we're not very different from Human Beings. We just want to get the job done and go home so we can put our feet up and relax. The sooner we do that, the happier we'll be. But most of all, I really want to see Krystal again because I miss her. I was told I'll be reunited with her tomorrow morning but I was curious… what are these… _special arrangements_ that you mentioned?"

The screen changed back to the President of the United States. "Well, Mister McCloud, we're going to relocate the _entire_ team. But you'll be together tomorrow as promised. It just won't be at your current location."

The television flipped back to a somewhat grainy picture of Fox. He seemed to be standing in front of the video camera that had been installed with the video monitor on the Ranch. In standard definition, it was a noticeable difference when the image switched between the President and Fox McCloud. With the President in front of a high definition television camera and Fox in front of the regular one located at the Ranch, Krystal couldn't help but notice the stark resolution change between the two.

"I appreciate it, Sir. StarFox is just a team of mercenaries for hire. We've gotten the job done several times in the past. But we're more than just a group of guns for hire… we're a family. But even families need a little outside help from time to time. Whether it's a religious person like a minister, or if it's a teacher, or even a member of the Government, a family sometimes needs a little help. Right now, our family needs your help in doing our job to the best of our ability. I understand that some people won't trust us but the American Government has been there for us over the last few months." He took a deep breath then sighed softly. "Now that one of our ships has been destroyed, we'll need all the help we can get to rebuild it. So, from our family to yours, thank you."

The interview continued for another thirty minutes and Krystal began to grow tired from her long two days. The interview concluded and the camera operator soon left with the monitor technician. Once they were gone, she turned to Jackie and said, "I assume we leave in the morning. Lord only knows. I'd like to call Fox back on this telephone-thing then turn in for the night. Can you get the number to the Ranch for me, please?"

Jackie nodded and stood up. "I'll only be a moment." She left the room. After a brief wait, she returned and handed a slip of paper to Krystal. "Just push the symbols that match the ones on the keypad on the phone. I wrote them out neatly so… you shouldn't have any problems. I'm going to be staying at a hotel directly across the street; I'll see you in the morning."

"Thank you, Jackie." Krystal offered a soft smile. "You've been a …sweetheart. I'm rather fond of that word. I like the way it sounds. Anyhow, I'll see you in the morning." She waited until the agent left the room and shut her door before dialing…

* * *

_Hours later… Satellite NSA building in the National Business Parkway, across Rt. 295 from the main NSA headquarters, located on the secure grounds of Fort George Meade in central Maryland._

**"THIS** is just…" The Deputy-Director, James McNamara turned away from the cubicles and walked to the glass wall at the far end of the room. He placed his hands behind his back and gazed out over Maryland's Route 295, the Baltimore – Washington Parkway. Beyond that, a line of trees and an impressive parking lot separated the bustling highway from the base boundary-line. In the window's reflection, he could see everyone on the 7th floor, assembled for his speech. "I can't even describe it. I really don't care to. The Pentagon wants to know why we can't make heads or tails of the encoded message we intercepted and they want to know how it ties in to this whole _Alien Visitor_ thing."

He turned back to the group of people, most of whom sat in their rolling desk chairs, and he closed his eyes for a moment. He drew in a deep breath, fidgeting with an opal cufflink on his right sleeve then calmly said, "We're analysts. We analyze this stuff and decrypt it. No one ever said that the NSA isn't up to the task." He paused again, lowered his eyes and sighed. "Okay, it's like this. Now that the public is watching the State of the Union, they're all huddled around their TV sets waiting because there will be an interview with one of the aliens. Most of you didn't even know about this until today and that's because it's been classified. I only just found out that most of our recent assignments have involved another race, living amongst us for quite some time. The initial shock was really a surprise but we're analysts and there _were_ signs."

"Like the Hubble, Sir," said one of the agents.

The Director nodded in reply. "That's correct. The NSA has always had privileged information come through its doors; that's never been a secret. When the Hubble went down, we were given audio clips that I personally listened to in order to determine if it was a collision of some sort. I spent seven hours in Rockville, Maryland just listening to the playback at Omega Recording studio with a sound engineer. They were toying with the equalizer and trying to separate sounds for several hours until we could pinpoint metal scraping against metal in the jumble of audio in the sample we got." He shook his head then turned back towards the window with a frown.

He watched traffic pass by on the southbound side of Route 295. "But I had no idea that it was an alien ship that clipped the Hubble. I assumed it was another satellite making physical contact. Let me assure all of you that this was just as big of a surprise to me. But I'm telling you right now that the Pentagon has also told me that these aliens do not pose any hostile intent. They're actually here to defend us from _another_ alien threat. There's just one problem. Anyone figure it out yet?"

Another voice came from the back of the group. "The encoded transmission we intercepted isn't coming from the Extra Terrestrials who are here to protect us?"

Director McNamara turned back to the group and smiled. "Who said that?" A man put his hand into the air. James folded his arms, toying with his cufflink again. "Very good. You're correct. This, of course, leaves us to assume that we could have overheard a transmission from _the enemy_. There's just one problem… why would they be transmitting anything? Who are they talking to? Is it an enemy recon ship? Are they in contact with someone on Earth – maybe try to even the odds? Is it even a communication at all?" He shifted his left hand to the silver band on his right middle finger. He twisted it wantonly then said, "We've received orders this morning. Now listen closely, team. We have to analyze this data burst, decode it and transcribe it as soon as possible. We don't even know if this was something we picked up from a recon probe or just a simple scan. We don't know their technology so we're forced to sit here and make guesses. But the NSA doesn't make _guesses_… we make _results_. So, from here on out, I want everyone to go back to their little cube and sit down in front of their little screen on their little computer… and I want _results_."

The room remained quiet. He ran his fingers back through his short black hair and said, "The Lieutenant General wants results. I'm not talking about the kind of results where the construction on the ramp leading up to Canine Road is supposed to have been cleared up by last week and it's _still_ blocked off." He pronounced the name of the road as "cuh-_nine_", instead of '_cay'_-nine. "No, as Deputy Director, I want the guys across the street to gawk at our performance." He narrowed his gaze at the headquarters building in the distance. "I'm tired of this location being labeled as the 'Pencil Pushers' building for the boys over on base. Now… one of the boys at the NASA office came up the Parkway from Greenbelt with recently unreleased photos _taken_ by Hubble, before it was struck. They said it may give us a little insight on what we're dealing with. This very same technician worked on parts used in servicing the Hubble and I worked closely with him shortly after the Hubble was hit. He's downstairs at the first security checkpoint so give him a few minutes because I want him to speak when he gets up here." James turned back to the window, folded then refolded his arms.

"The wreckage of the Hubble is actually sitting in their '_cleanroom_', over at the Goddard facility." McNamara licked his lips then added, "Everything that has come out of Building 29 has been deemed classified. But this is actually what happened… The Hubble was in the middle of snapping shots of something found out past Neptune. For those of you who don't know… That's the _eighth_ planet from the sun." A round of muffled chuckles filled the room. James cleared his throat then said, "The very last photograph it took was of some sort of round moon-like space station but it didn't record properly to the server drives, here on Earth. It was clipped just as the final picture was snapped. When the wreckage was recovered, we found this picture from the Hubble's internal memory." He licked his lips again then shook his head.

A new voice filled the room from the far end of the office. "Our best guess is that the photographed object might be the enemy alien craft." The entire assembly turned to look at Jeremy James, a smartly dressed Lieutenant with a NORAD badge around his neck. "Sorry to interrupt, I had security clearance to come up here and was ordered to speak to the Director; I assume that's you, Sir?"

McNamara nodded then dropped his arms to either side of his waist in silence.

"Right, well," young Jeremiah James cleared his throat. He lifted his gaze to the Director to avert his gaze from the room full of people. "I'm out of NORAD," he told them, showing the badge that hung around his neck. "I, uh, had visual confirmation of Hubble's destruction from another satellite that usually records video for Google Earth; it's designed to buffer information so we couldn't see the collision until shortly after it happened. Google brought it to NORAD, and I was given clearance to confirm that it really _was_ GreatFox that clipped the telescope. The Google Satellite points in two directions, one towards the planet to map Google Earth; the other maps space because they have a program that charts the sky in the same way… lucky us huh?" No one replied, leaving Lieutenant James to swallow back his nervousness.

He licked his paled lips and said, "I'm unfortunately the NORAD expert on what we saw happen, what Hubble saw and what transmission was overheard a few days ago. I've concluded that the transmission used interference burst packets to squelch the encoded data signal. Only a receiver designed to decode this information would have been able to make any sense of the data transmission. However, I've actually come to realize that the signal was directed _at_ Earth. This was done by the Hostiles. It seems realistically possible that Benedict Arnold was reincarnated. Someone important who thinks his actions were a good idea but really quite the opposite."

"You're banter lacks a concise point, Lieutenant." McNamara refolded his arms once more.

Jeremy captured his lower lip between his teeth for a moment. Silence filled the room. He drew a deep breath then said, "The bad guys are talking to someone on Earth – a traitor to the human race, it would seem. These hostiles broke transmission just as they engaged team StarFox; the end result brought about the destruction of an Arwing."

Director McNamara pointed to a gray door in the corner. "Lieutenant... in my office – _now_. Everyone else, get back to work; we'll reconvene later when we have something further to discuss."

The two headed into the corner office and the Director shut the door. "What the hell – where are the proper F'ing channels, Lieutenant? We receive information like this in an encoded power-point presentation, not by sending some geeky kid from Colorado all the way to DC. Who is your superior officer?"

Jeremy swallowed back a lump in his throat. "I, uh, just came here from, uh, the Whitehouse, sir. I cracked a code back at NORAD and they threw me on a plane, first class. I arrived this morning, told the President what I knew in person and he arranged for a ride up the turnpike."

"Parkway," McNamara corrected. "This is highly irregular and furthermore…" He paused to think of a way to be nasty.

"Sir, if I may be so bold, having live alien visitors is _highly unlikely_. I'm sorry this whole situation isn't going as smoothly as a simulation but the President told _me_ that he needs men who think on their feet. That he wants men who can adapt when there's nothing but chaos. That's what I do, _SIR_."

"Call me Jim, kid."

Jeremy wanted to reply with, 'call me 'kid', Jim.' However, he couldn't work up the nerve to be facetious to a ridiculously high ranking officer. "Jeremy, Sir. I'm here because you're a legend, Sir. Also, you've been recruited to an Intelligence team – same as me. Do you get seasick, sir?"

"Jim," repeated the Director. "Seasick, huh? What's that supposed to mean?"

"We're both going to be at sea for an ungodly amount of time, Jim… Sir."

"Have a phobia of being on a first-name basis with the brass, Jeremy?"

The young lieutenant shook his head rapidly… then, quite suddenly, nodded. "It doesn't seem natural to call you anything other than _Sir_. You only make …what? _Several hundred thousand_ dollars a year _more_ than me?"

Jim McNamara narrowed his gaze and placed his knuckles on his hips. "You can easily get on the internet, smartass, and look at the average pay-grade for my position. It's not _several_ hundred thousand."

The nervous edge in Jeremy's voice faded for a moment. "Terribly sorry, Sir – approximately twelve _grand_ per month is only one hundred forty-four thousand a year." He took a deep breath, sighed, repeated the breath then said, "Only _one_ hundred thousand more. But then you're paid by the NSA as a Director. You drive a company car, so you don't have to pay for gasoline or insurance. You don't have to pay rent. You have a company phone, so you don't have a cellular bill to pay. You make money on interest accrued from all those lavish government money programs you've invested in and, when you file your taxes, you somehow break even every time. So let's say you're actually raking in about _two hundred fifty thousand_ a year. Now it's not _several_ but it IS a _couple_ hundred thousand…_more_… than me. And I cracked the data transmission your team has slaved over… on unprofessional, low tech crap… like, say, a Lenovo laptop with several dead pixels and a broken DVD drive. Should I call IBM and tell them how their computer could do more than your MD-Grape? Or are you running the office on the latest Cray? Heck, I don't know _anything_ about the NSA – but when your computer runs in petaflops and mine runs a Core-2-Duo at one-and-a-half gigahertz, it's real obvious that the computer becomes the irrelevant equation. No, your real problem is a PICNIC."

"Picnic?" The Director suddenly liked the younger gentleman, respecting Jeremy's fire and intelligence.

The lieutenant folded his arms. "It's an acronym, Sir. 'Problem In Chair, Not In Computer.' And it seems you've got an office PICNIC epidemic if I solved that data burst problem in a few hours while you guys were _still_ stewing over it when I came in the door. Hey – I bet it'll even impress those 'guys across the street'."

The Director toyed with one of his cufflinks again. "What do you know about being on an Intelligence Team – no one has approached me yet."

"Surprise – pack your backs, Sir. We'll be staying on a two-star floating resort… God only knows what the Military will give us for sleeping arrangements and I can't even begin to guess as to which ship we'll be on… I hope it's big because I don't like sharing bunks, although the Navel ships usually do have State Beds for Officers… just the same. I hate feeling cramped."

"Fine," said McNamara, adding, "Just promise me there won't be any more outbursts in public. You've got to watch what you say – you can't go around naïvely spouting off everything you know. Do you have papers?"

"You mean the _official_ orders? Yeah, they thought it would be cute to make me double as a delivery boy," said Jeremy. He reached into his back pocket and unrolled a manila envelope then handed it over to the Director. "I've got a few days to sit in DC, then they're going to fly me out from Andrews A.F.B. Oh, and in case you weren't impressed with my, uh, speech thing… Here's something I haven't told anyone else yet…" He cleared his throat then told the superior officer, "The data stream was angled in a narrow beam and, if my tenth grade math is right, using Y equals Mx plus B, it should have been received by a longitude and latitude that correlate to Russia, _Sir_."

"You've not _told_ anyone that?" exclaimed Jim.

"I can't verify it on my crappy laptop," replied Jeremy with a frown. "I only got a few seconds to look at that information from the terminal back in Colorado. I did the math on my own from memory – I'm not important enough to be given access to the data stream, so that I can validate it… but yeah, Russia. Look at you – I saw your eyes get wide… comes with age – living through the cold war; Russia has a special place in your heart, doesn't it."

The director narrowed his eyes and grew quiet. After a moment, he said, "Grow up."

"Witty retort, Director James McNamara – funny how your first name is my last name. I'm sure that'll get confusing at some point down the road. Anyhow, my ride is waiting downstairs, Sir. I just came to give you the good news. Bring a life jacket." He stood up, nodded politely and left the office. The normally timid Lieutenant silently congratulated himself on his performance. For some reason, he felt important around the Director of the NSA and wanted to display a little gull.

* * *

A/N: _Normally, I do TWO CHAPTERS of this story at a time. The next chapter would have been about moving the StarFox team, them doing another patrol but without Krystal… etc. Also, I'm thinking about having Miyu fool around with a human being just a little. But that's the reason I've not posted to this story in so long… I've been waiting for inspiration and patience (To translate the hand-written sludge in this wicked-old binder from my youth) to write the next chapter so I could post them together… well, it'll happen but I've been busy with REFLECTIONS of StarFox. So… here's half-an-update to tide you guys over for a little longer. xD_

_Yes, I did some research recently to make sure the names, places, objects, etc are all realistic. All right, I'm off to finish Reflections of a New Generation's new chapter!!_


	6. Chapter 10 by itself

Chapter -10-  
"Pacific Theater Cruise"

**"They're idiots,**" said a pilot, shaking his head. "No version of the Raptor is navalized; no arrester hook, reinforced landing gear to handle landing on a carrier at sea, or equipment to hook up to the catapults." He put his fists on his hips, glaring at the F-22 Raptor sitting on the flight deck of the windswept Gerald Ford carrier. "The fact I'm looking at this abomination right now means one thing..." He cut his eyes to another pilot.

The second pilot folded his arms over his chest and in reply, said, "They employed shortcuts. But the Raptor flies well - I couldn't understand why they plucked me out of my Hornet squadron and had me learn the Raptor back in San Diego but then I flew it and I liked it. Now I'm here."

"You were hand-selected for this mission before you ever sat in that Raptor seat," said the first pilot. "I was the same way - I liked the Raptor the first time I flew it. It's not a bad plane. But it's _not_ a Navy plane. It's _not_ designed to sit on a flight deck. With a skeleton crew, things are going to be overlooked. It's going to break down from the abuse of the sea combined with the lack of mechanics on this boat. We've been given outfitted Raptors that are so unofficial, even _I_ question if they'll work. Who installed the maritime gear so that it could fly on this carrier? Were they idiots? Were their parents idiots? Look, all I'm saying is… it's never been tested at sea. It's not carrier-qualified. There is a version of the F-35 Lightning II... the F-35C, IIRC... and _that_ is designed for operating off a carrier, but not _this_ thing." He glowered at the silent Raptor.

The second pilot shook his head slowly. "You're awfully pessimistic, aren't you?"

The first pilot's dark-skinned face contorted into a forced smile. "You can call me 'Doomsday'. It's more than a handle - it's my motto."

"This isn't _Wing Commander_, and I'm willing to give the outfitted Raptor a chance." The second pilot offered his hand to the first and they shook. "Doomsday - a pleasure to meet ya'. They call me Wild Bill - don't ask why; you'll see when I fly, though."

"Wild Bill, huh? Take a look around," said the slightly taller black man to his tan-skinned country-boy counterpart. "You're wrong - 'Wing Commander' is _exactly_ what all of this really is. We're here to provide an escort for _aliens in star fighters_. If that isn't something right out of a video game from the early nineties, like 'Wing Commander' then I don't know what is." Doomsday paused and grinned somewhat. "Did they tell you to leave your identity behind before coming aboard?"

Yeah," said Bill with a slow shake of his head. "I wasn't allowed to bring my wallet, my dog tags, or even my military ID card. I couldn't understand that - they told me to use my handle as my identity until after this 'mission'. What's the big story behind all of that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" asked Doomsday. "You're not here. I'm not here. The aliens aren't here." He pointed to a gaping square hole at the starboard side of the carrier. "Those Arwing things aren't here. I've talked to most of the pilots and some of the staff here... So far, no one I've talked to has any immediate family. For example - I'm an orphan. What's your sob story?"

"My parents were in their very late forties when I was born," Wild Bill explained. "I married at eighteen but my wife died of cancer when I was twenty-four. I fell out of contact with my in-laws over the last five years. I enlisted in the military during Bush's last year of office because I figured whoever replaced him wouldn't put a huge spin on military in order to win some face with the voters. I figured the military would get me through school, so I'm working on my dual major in History and Science. But I love flyin'."

Doomsday furrowed his brows in slight confusion. "A cowboy redneck pilot who is interested in becoming a historian-slash-scientist? Boy, you're a weird one."

Bill chuckled, showing his good-naturedness. "They call me Wild Bill because I have James Hickok and Black Nell tattooed on my back in full color. What can I say - he was a bona fide badass and..."

"Okay, so you like history - what about the science?"

Wild Bill shrugged. "Knowing more about physics and chemistry helped me know how to blow things up better than before. Ever watched Mister Wizard growing up, man? I grew up on that kind of stuff - I like things that go 'boom' - that's who I am."

Doomsday grinned and patted his newfound friend on the shoulder. "I'm sure those aliens probably look at people like us and wonder why we don't just blow ourselves up so they can get on with their lives. And yeah, I had to receive new dog tags, too. They only have my handle, blood type and religion – nothing else. When do you think we'll meet the aliens?"

"Good question," said Bill with a slow shake of his head. "I want to see them to prove to myself that it's not part of a stupid military hoax. I'm curious if they're telling the truth or if this is all an elaborate scheme for some really _stupid_ purpose."

"I've not seen them in person, either. You might be right - this is probably all a bunch of disinformation for something else, unrelated." Doomsday brought his hand to his chin, rubbing his thumb along his jaw line. "October ninth, 2005… I was on the Enterprise. We're leaving Newport News and get a few hundred yards out… and suddenly the power goes out. Most everyone sits in the hanger twiddling their thumbs for almost an hour until the tugboats show up. They take us out to Norfolk and we sit there at pier twelve for over a week. Turns out that a few tons of sand and silt fouled up the ole' girl and we stalled… just like that. Truth is, we brushed a sandbar at low tide."

Bill folded his arms and shrugged. "Yeah?" He wasn't quite sure where the other pilot was going with his story.

Doomsday continued. "The last guy who ran Enterprise aground got promoted and eventually wound up as a four-star Admiral. I don't know what the hell was going on, but the bridge wasn't saying squat. We just sat until the tugs came and got us. The next day, a Navy spokesperson blamed the tugboats for dragging us over a shallow sandbar. On the seventeenth, the Navy Times reported that the ship never actually touched bottom… but it somehow sucked up some silt and auxiliary power systems kicked in, as they were designed to do. Which was a lie, we sat in the dark on the hanger with our thumbs up our keesters. If you even try to Google that story now, you'll be hard-pressed to find anything on it. The Navy Times removed the story from their archives. It's like that moment of stupidity never even existed. So if they go through such great lengths to hide information about a silly little mistake, how can we believe the Navy when they say nothing ever happened to the Eldridge, which was obviously put to use the same way this Ford-class carrier is being put to use… Whatever happened to it occurred before the shakedown cruise in the Bahamas. Nikola Tesla's Unified Field Theory was never published because the FBI seized his work right after he died… the same year the Eldridge supposedly was 'degaussed'."

Wild Bill placed his fists on his hips, looking over Doomsday with a broad grin. "You're somethin' else. The Navy is an acronym for, '_Never Again Volunteer Yourself_' so I've got to ask… what were you thinking when you joined? What were you thinking when you volunteered to escort and protect a bunch of aliens? Why are you so obsessed with the government when you _know_ they're hiding stuff? It's like making a big deal over obvious stuff. We _all_ know the government is hiding stuff from us. Why get up in arms about it? _Everyone_ knows they're hiding stuff."

"So what happens to us? If the aliens do something stupid and the government doesn't want us to spout off at the mouth, one of us winds up 'committing suicide' while the other 'crashes' shortly before retirement."

With a hearty laugh, Bill turned to Doomsday, patted his shoulder and waved for him to follow. "Let's go below deck. You're a trip, man."

Wild Bill and Doomsday ran their fingers through their hair as each pilot drew off a ball-cap style cover from his head. The gesture happened in unison. They crossed the galley only to be approached by a man over by the Geedunk bar. The man wore a very tidy looking blazer with a gray tie and polished shoes. He reached into his jacket's pocket and withdrew two earpieces. "Gentleman, good afternoon! I'm Jim… _just_ Jim. I do numbers and, during our little retreat, I'm nobody particularly important. However, I've been walking around and talking to the pilots. You're the last two left… And these little toys are for you both." He offered the pilots the earpieces.

"What'er these for?" asked Bill.

Doomsday placed a hand gently on the man's shoulder then leaned in towards the other pilot and simply said, "Translators."

Jim McNamara nodded to the dark-skinned pilot. "Very astute. I see you've been spending quite a bit of time standing around the scuttlebutt. Boys, these earpieces are classified technology. These are the newest ones and are loaded with Japanese. Never have you _ever_ had something so advanced clipped to the side of your head, let me assure you of that. I'm sure you're going to see things and maybe even fly things that you've never seen before. Don't get excited. There's a reason we banned cellular phones, PDAs, laptops, email devices and, generally, all contact with the outside world. There's a reason why you can't bring a furby toy on this ship, let alone a camera. If you talk about anything you see during your stay… and your talk happens without the military's expressed permission… trust me, boys… you'll truly regret it."

"Save the speech," said Doomsday. "I was present for orientation. I want to see some aliens, Jim. I want to see the skinny little dweebs with their big, creepy eyes. I want to see their little UFOs flying off the deck – if I don't, I won't even believe in it."

Jim smirked. "Oh, you'll want to put stock in this story," he trailed off, reaching for the pilot's tags then continued where he left off, saying, "_Doomsday_. Trust me when I tell you, son, these aliens are _not_ what you expect. Did you see the State of the Union address?"

"Funny how it works," replied the dark skinned gentleman. He kept his back straight, his shoulders perfectly aligned and presented himself as a professional. Meanwhile, his compatriot, Wild Bill, slouched a little. Doom shook his head, shrugged somewhat and said, "I was watching the first three minutes of the address on YouTube when someone knocked on my door yesterday morning. Now I'm here. Why do you ask?"

"The president had an interview with two of them on live television." Jim shook his head. "They don't look like the freaky little Area-51 fish head style alien. Don't think 'Sci-Fi." Think… _fantasy_. Not what you'd expect, son."

Bill snapped his fingers. "Yeah, I saw a YouTube video called "Debunking the aliens." They point out that the president was shown in high definition but the second alien in the interview was shown in standard definition. Plus, the first alien, who _is_ shown at the beginning of the interview, is cutting their eyes to someone just off the camera before they reply, as if they're reading a cue card. It's just an elaborate hoax."

Jim folded his arms, toying with a partially hidden cufflink beneath the sleeve of his dress jacket, said, "Yeah? Is that so? The first alien in the interview was taped in high definition. The CIA agent sitting besides her was named Jack Harrison. Now, the alien who spoke during the first segment of the interview is telepathic. So, when the president spoke to her… she had to listen to Harrison's mind in order to understand what was being said over line during the interview. I read the report. Any other facts you need de-debunked, young man? No? I'm glad to hear it." Jim didn't even give either pilot a chance to shake their head. "I was told the pilots would _not_ be allowed to meet the aliens. However, the aliens requested otherwise. They want to screen every single one of you boys. So far, you're the last two left. That's why you get these earpieces. Now… let me further intimidate you for just a moment." Jim paused and smiled.

The NSA director folded his hands pleasantly. "We had two pilots flown home on the very first day. Why? Because the telepathic alien of the group probed their minds and found them to be untrustworthy. I sure hope you find lads will stack up. Trust me when I tell you… that you do _not_ want to sent home, labeled as a 'possible threat' by a being who is a scientifically proven telepath. The Navy wouldn't trust you boys anymore. So, before we go meet them for the first time… is there anything either of you want to tell me?" Neither pilot spoke. Jim shrugged. "C'mon, boys – confess your sins."

"Get on with it, ya' goofy sumbitch." Bill stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Let's go check out this biological lie detector test."

Doomsday smiled at his new friend, liking the man even more all of a sudden. "We're ready."

"Excellent." Jim waved a hand and walked away from them. "Follow me, gentlemen." The three men walked out of the galley and through a lengthy hallway. It spanned several hundred feet with the men carefully navigating the lip of each doorway every so often. McNamara led them up a corrigated metal staircase, two levels up then across the deck. At the hell of the hall, the metallic bulkheads gave way to wood panel walls. The eldest of the three men opened the door and held it for the two pilots. "That will be all then, flyboys. In you go." He waited until they were through then closed the door behind them.

Bill and Doom stood in a sitting room. There was a tacky orange vinyl sofa that covered the left and front wall. Above it was a wooden plaque with carved lettering. It read, '_A chief is always right. He may be misinformed, inexact, bullheaded, fickle, ignorant, even abnormally stupid, but NEVER WRONG!_' in a large font. The blue carpeting had an odd light-purple checkerboard design at the center of the room with dark and light purplish-gray squares. A picture on the wall across from the plaque depicted a Hornet and two F-14 Tomcats on a flight deck, shown at either dawn or dusk. The vibrant orange background bode well with the orange sofa in an odd sort of way. Neither pilot sat down.

Doomsday pointed out a tiny dot in the hand-painted picture. "Charlie Hornet, and here, right above it, is an SH-3 Sea King." His finger trailed right, towards the two Tomcats, then up to a tiny little diamond-formation of four distant fighters in the background of the picture. "Four more Tomcats, here."

"Sharp eye, pilot. So," Bill smiled. "No pessimism this time? And here we thought we weren't allowed to interact with the aliens; now we get a one-on-one with them. That's kinda' cool, huh?"

"Actually," began the taller pilot. He offered a thin smile. "This is the most optimistic thing they could do if the situation is as critical as they made it out to sound… Screening the crew means we can all trust one another more easily in this delicate situation." A door at the other end of the room opened.

Bill and Doom turned to face an enlisted man in a white uniform. They nodded in acknowledgment of the first class petty officer. He nodded in reply and withdrew a folded white cover from beneath his arm. He left through the other door, closing it behind himself. Another man in a tan uniform stood in the opposite doorway, gesturing to both pilots.

"Senior Chief," said both men in near unison. The approached; Doom stepped through the doorway first, followed by Bill. The senior chief closed the door behind them then sat down at a table. It was a nice room done up for officers but there were no signs of aliens.

"Sit down, gentlemen. I bet you're both still adjusting to the Ford; she's a big boat and, as you've both undoubtedly noticed, she lacks a crew. Typically, a girl this big would have a crew of about forty-seven hundred. There are less than a thousand men here. You flyboys are the _only_ crewmembers that were brought in at the request of our new 'friends' so everything you see is beyond classified."

"_Beyond_ classified?" asked Doom, folding his hands and resting them on the table. "Okay, so we get it… this never happened unless someone of serious importance orders otherwise. What _I_ am concerned about has nothing to do with the crew, the aliens or this ship."

"What's your concern, pilot?" The senior chief was very careful not to announce rank or names.

"Those raptors. I noticed that there are Super Hornets in the belly – a tried and true fighter. There was a small collection of F-35s, down there, ready for naval combat and… yet we're expected to fly the Raptor? Why?"

"I'll make it easy," said the man with a slight smile. "We're about to take Air Force planes and fly'em faster, straighter, tighter, better – then land them on a shorter runway. And, we're going to look good doing it. There are _two_ reasons for the Raptors. For one, they're our cover. We're out here testing a new Raptor with a classified weapon system. Second of all, we're out here using Lockheed's prettiest plane to do a mission-critical job… we're babysitting."

Wild Bill brought his hand up, pressing his fingertips against the 'soul patch' hair below his lower lip. "Classified weapon system… like the mobile THEL program?"

"Something much more advanced, pilot." The ranking man stood up and nodded, resisting the urge to salute. "Boys, stay here. I want both of you wearing your little earpieces that Jim gave you. Don't take them off, understood? Stay here until you're dismissed. Oh…" He pushed in his chair and smiled. "Have either of you ever landed on a ship while she's pushing upwards of thirty-five knots? If not, you'll both be experts very soon."

"Leaving, Senior Chief?" asked Bill.

"I am. I'm not cleared to meet our new friends. At least not yet." He walked over to the door they'd come through earlier and locked it then retreated through a door on the far right side of the room. Once through it, he locked it from the other side. His figure disappeared from the frosted glass of the rectangular window above the handle.

A moment later, another door – opposite of the one that brought the pilots into this room – opened. Doom and Bill's eyes widened slightly. An orange male fox and a blue-furred one, obviously feminine, entered the room. Doomsday announced, "Female on deck." Both pilots stood. Without a word, the male pulled a chair out for the lady. She settled in it; when she did, both pilots sat back down, resuming their previous posture. The vixen relaxed in her chair and folded her paws much the way Doomsday kept his hands upon the table. The male animal, easily close to six foot tall, settled into another chair. He curled his tail around the side of the chair's legs, using the white-tipped end to pat the deck in an offbeat rhythm. At first, no one spoke.

Bill dropped his hand from his chin and tilted his head. In his politest tone, he said, "I ain't ever raising another newspaper to Charlie so long as I live."

Doomsday unfolded his hands then refolded them, nervous at the stupid joke uttered by his new friend. After a brief pause, he turned to Bill and offered a glare. In a soft voice, he said, "Jesus Christ, Bill, don't get yourself into trouble."

The orange-furred male lifted a paw, touching something within his left ear. At a glance, it was easy to see the translator peeking out through his head-fur. He cleared his throat and, in a very relaxed humanesque-tone, said, "My best friend in school was named Bill. Some of our names are not so very different than some of yours. I've heard some very fantastic names on this planet but it's good to know there are still simple ones, like 'Bill', here on Earth. A coincidence for sure. How's it going, guys?" His paw extended towards the pilot known as 'Wild Bill' first. "I'm Fox McCloud." With his free paw, he gestured towards the woman. "This is Krystal." His right paw met with Bill's right hand. They shook. Next, Fox made the same offer to the other pilot. "And you are?"

The taller black-skinned gentleman placed his right hand into Fox's softly padded palm – they shook. "Doomsday, Mister Fox McCloud." He then offered his hand to Krystal. She paused briefly then, with a soft smile, offered her paw to him. They shook. "Miss Krystal," said Doom with a nod of respect. Any sentient, English-speaking alien, no matter how foreign, was shown courteous and polite treatment by Doomsday.

Bill then offered his hand to the blue-furred vixen and they shook. He leaned back in his seat and asked, "How does this interview work?"

Krystal folded her paws again. "It's already finished – I'm pleased with the results, gentlemen. What we've done with the other pilots, up to this point, is let them ask questions of us because some of them had a difficult time mentally adjusting – more so than Mister Wild Bill." She turned her gaze to him. "I understand you worked on a farm as a young boy; I'm sure our appearance may surprise you but you're taking it far more seriously than some pilots we've met with a short while ago. And," she cut her eyes to Doomsday, adding, "Surprisingly, you're taking it far better than any pilot we've spoken to thus far. I'm able to sense that you're accepting but I'm curious as to why you're so ready and willing to accept what you see and who we are?"

Bill and Fox turned to face Doomsday directly. The pilot, tallest of anyone in the room by a few inches, relaxed in his chair. "I'm typically very sarcastic, cynical and pessimistic. However, I have lived in Texas, California, Florida and minutes north of Washington, DC. I've seen a _lot_ of immigrants and aliens – illegal or otherwise – that lived in America for _years_ without learning English words or customs." He unfolded then refolded his hands again. "I see we are in need of these translation earpieces for your friend, ma'am, but I have a deep respect for you – that you're able to speak our language so well… and that your mannerisms are so attuned to our own. Anyone who takes the time to learn it and do it the way we do… has earned my respect."

Bill nodded slowly. "Yeah, I agree, I can't stand when some dude from another country lives stateside for a dozen years and can hardly do more than repeat what you say to them. Then you say, '_You gave me the wrong change, bub._' No big surprise, they repeat what you said, nod, smile and say, '_Thank you for coming!_' Frustrating as all hell."

Fox rubbed his chin then nodded in reply. "I'll bet. We have in-ear translation devices available but most people in Lylat speak a variation of the same thing. One of my pilots, Falco, is sensitive about the same thing… when you're trying to talk to someone who can't communicate with you when they've lived amongst you for a lengthy period of time… I think we're all on the same page, gentlemen. However, the reason Krystal is speaking your words and doesn't use a translator is because she's telepathic. She can hear what you're saying in her mind then speak it back at you. It's made some of the pilots very uncomfortable."

Doomsday snorted in disdain. "I can imagine why it would do that. People on this planet are very protective of their shame and they're sensitive to peer judgment. If one person has a fantasy that his neighbor would consider perverse or taboo, that person is going to guard their inner fetish or whatever their secret is… and if they feel that their privacy is threatened, they act accordingly."

Krystal nodded slowly. "Such is nature in many sentient beings. They have things they hide. I was born of a race of telepaths. While everyone judges, we never judged another on his or her thoughts, desires or secrets. We only judged on actions and other such things, like breaking a commitment or showing blatant disrespect. However… I assure you that your deepest desires and urges are quite safe from my abilities unless you dwell on them actively. Again, I do not judge on such things. Do you have any questions for us that you would like to ask?"

Bill, good natured and quick with humor, asked, "I'm thinking of a number between…"

Krystal deadpanned at the white-skinned pilot with the facial hair beneath his mouth. "Forty-seven and _one third_. Now you're thinking of sixteen." She tilted her head somewhat. "Nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-four…. And a quarter. This is silliness. You say the number aloud in your mind, making it obvious to me." Her expression dulled further, as if she were about to roll her eyes. "That's a letter, Mister Wild Bill, _not_ a number."

Bill murmured softly to Doomsday. "Damn… she's the real deal, Doom."

"She is," replied Fox. "You think that's bad? Try _dating_ a telepath. It'll make an honest man out of you in record time. We've already met one pilot, a little while ago, that was immediately attracted to Krystal… much to our surprise."

Bill leaned back in his chair. "That had to be damn awkward."

Krystal nodded. "Indeed, it was. He was a very lewd man – a very visual and imaginative man… However, he was also fairly attracted to Fox as well. It is of no matter, though. I sense that he can control himself, which is all that matters to me."

Bill murmured to Doom again. "That'd make '_don't ask, don't tell_' a serious issue, wouldn't it?" He received no reply from the other pilot. He cut his gaze back to Krystal and asked, "So you can read our conscious thoughts… anything you can sense about us that isn't quite so obvious?"

She nodded. "Some things, yes. For starters, you're both exceptionally confident in your piloting abilities, regardless for Mister Doomsday's lack of trust in technology. The reason why is not strikingly apparent to me – at least not yet. Also, Mister Doomsday does not believe in unrequited love – relationships come at a price for him; they have to meet his preconceived notions of how a relationship is supposed to be and he often is critical of the intentions of those that have romantic joinings with him." She turned to Wild Bill and tilted her head. "You're far different – you've taken an unserious approach on many things in your life but friendship and loyalty are held in the utmost highest of regard. You live your life where trust is offered but must be _earned back_ if broken. Because of this outlook, you've given a loved one a second chance once and feel that the 'pay off' was worth it. You are, however, alone now and hold that loved one very dear to your heart and…" As Krystal spoke, Bill began to flashback to a fond memory. The vixen paused, her eyes flitted from left to right for a moment – as though watching a television screen – then she frowned. "I am so sorry she's gone."

"Anything else, besides the stuff that sits on my heart?"

Krystal frowned, recoiling slightly. She placed her paw against her mouth and nodded, rubbing at her nose with a sigh. "Let's see… you're educated but not formal-minded. Your casual outlook on your job and your life has helped you through something horrible that you once saw aboard an aircraft carrier a number of years ago." Again, her words caused the pilot to flashback to a moment on the Kitty Hawk. Krystal flinched. "You saw a friend killed from friendly fire?"

"You did?" Doomsday turned towards Bill, both brows furrowed. "What happened?"

Wild Bill rolled his shoulders. "Hornet flight. It was April back in '03. We were near Karbala, Iraq. There was 'an _incident'_ involving two Patriot Missiles in a friendly fire accident. Lieutenant White ejected but he was found dead on the ground that Saturday. He was amongst the wreckage of his Hornet on the shore of a lake just west of the Karbala Gap. The guy was just thirty years old. Spoke fluent Japanese, left behind a pretty wife and three kids… Religious guy – Latter Day Saint; he married a Japanese girl named Akiko. Juice was on his fourteenth combat sortie. Nearly a week later, I saw him brought in – it was a mess but friendly fire is a part of war… and war is a part of life, so. Juice, that's what we called him. Poor Nate; good lookin' guy, and never made it home because of a '_glitch_'. Anyhow, I was one of _very_ few on 'Battle Cat' to have seen him posthumously. It probably wouldn't be so bad if he weren't shot down by friendlies. But it is what it is."

"Tragic," murmured Doomsday. "I remember hearing about that on the news. He was buried in Arlington National, right?"

"Good memory," said Bill with a nod. "I couldn't make the funeral. We were at sea in a combat zone. Funny thing is… I always hated Mormons 'till I flew with him. I always saw'em as these annoying guys that came door to door, talkin' about this and that. But White was a good guy. Good sense of humor, real professional-like in the cockpit. He wasn't one of those goddamn hotheads that think they're the next 'Top Gun' winner. He was a textbook pilot."

Krystal tilted her head in confusion. She blinked at Bill for a moment then asked, "But I thought _you_ were a Top Gun pilot?"

Bill snorted in disdain. "Yeah. I guess it's hard to keep secrets from chicks who read minds."

Doomsday looked visually impressed. "Top Gun, huh?"

"It ain't like the movie. Well... not entirely." Wild Bill turned back to Fox and Krystal. "Boy, this's been an awkward trip down memory lane, huh?" He was quick to note that Krystal's facial expression changed rather suddenly. "What's wrong?"

"I think we might be…" An alarm sounded over the public announcement system. Krystal stood up, as did Fox. Seconds later, a voice came over the PA, starting with 'Now hear this…' and trailing off into a request for the crew to report to their battle stations.

Doomsday stood up calmly, pulling out Bill's chair. "Well… that was quick. Are we even in international waters yet?"

"Yeah, that we are, I'm sure." Bill opened the door for everyone and gestured them all through it. "Let's go, let's go."

At some point down the hallway, the corridor split. Fox ran to the right while Bill and Doomsday ran to the left. They left Krystal behind, unable to fly yet from her injuries. As the two human pilots ran through the hall, Doomsday continued his prior argument against the Raptor. "Thirty maintenance hours for every flight hour," he panted, "at a cost of forty-four thousand bucks _per _hour of flight?! And that's on _land_! Can you imagine this thing on the sea? It'll break down in a hot minute!" They rounded a corner and he continued. "Far from eight hundred, the canopy needs replace or repair because it offers crap visibility after just three hundred 'n thirty flight hours! It's a glorified piece of trash!"

"So why ya' like the Lightning II better?" huffed Bill as they passed into a locker room, scrambling to get into their flight suits"

"Let's see, one hundred forty million compared to eighty million… so the F-35 is like… buy three, get one free." He began zipping up the front of his G-suit. "But they're not going to go into use for a few more years. They've been making them since 2009 and there's proof of it… we have over a dozen of them down in the belly of this barge. We should be using them – they have twice the fuel range of a Charlie Hornet." He reached for his helmet, tucking it beneath his arm. "Single engine, double engine… it still has the climb and power we'll need."

"I'll take two engines any day."

"Increased payload," said Doomsday, in reference to the F-35. "More missiles, man. I'll take more missiles over something to drink fuel _any_ day of the _week_. Let's go!" Doom slammed his locker and the two pilots hurried out of the locker room. "Looks like we're going to miss the party at this rate!" Another pilot came from across the hallway.

He was a blonde man in his late twenties with fancy-looking sunglasses. "Name's Tailhook and I'll be flying with you two, t'day! C'mon, I waited up for the last two pilots because I heard you guys were meeting the fur balls!"

"Tailhook?" asked Bill incredulously. "Look at you, kid, you weren't even a teenager back when that happened!"

The young pilot hurried through the hallway with the other two. "Yeah, but I've slept with nine female pilots, three of whom outranked me. So that's what my superiors started calling me!" They hurried to the end of the hall and out to the elevators. Tailhook struck the call button with the flat of his palm. "So the aliens are freakin' wild aren't they? Talking animals; one is a chick; kinda' attractive, all things considered… how awesome is that?"

"Wild Bill," said the other Caucasian pilot, fairly older and obviously more mature. "Over here, we have Doomsday – smart guy with a gloomy outlook on statistical probabilities." He turned to Doom and said, "I think we found the one that Krystal mentioned – the perverted one."

Doomsday stepped onto the elevator and the doors parted. Tailhook and Wild Bill followed. Doom smirked at the younger pilot and asked, "So you'd bang those two aliens in a heartbeat, huh kid?"

"What? Me?" Tailhook snorted in mock laughter. The elevator began to lift them up to the flight deck. They began fastening their gear in anticipation. "Maybe the chick, but I'd need a _lot_ of alcohol to try baggin' some chick that isn't even human; nah, I'll stick to Maybelline, thanks."

Bill shook his head. "You're talking about the pilot who dolls up real pretty? She goes by _Revlon_ as her handle, not Maybelline." The elevator came to a stop and they hurried onto the flight deck. "You're right, though – she's gorgeous. Toned legs, nice hair and she's real levelheaded. She probably won't go for guys who sleeps with his coworkers like it's the normal thing to do!" They raced across the enormous wide-open flight deck towards a line of fighters, prepping for launch. "It sounds to me like you don't stand a chance, kiddo. See you in the sky." He hurried towards a nearby fighter with the wheeling ladder rolled against the side.

Tailhook and Doomsday hurried further up the deck towards the waiting fighter craft. They dashed up the rolling ladders and each pilot was met by a single crewman, each, to help them get into their cockpits and get ready. Their ladders were rolled back and the fighters were pushed forward and connected to the new high-power electromagnetic catapult track.

Wild Bill was the first of the three off the deck. He gritted his teeth but leered with a devilish grin as his fighter raced forward. Seconds later, he regained control of his craft, easing his hand into the side-stick then drawing the control stick back firmly. Radio chatter filtered in through his headset and he quickly reported to his new 'team'.

"There are only two bogeys but it looks like they're not from this damn planet. Now the fun starts, huh?"

Next was the voice of Doomsday. "Keep it professional. Bill, Tailhook, form up and follow me."

Behind his voice, another random pilot was shouting, "Guns, guns, guns!" in the background. Seconds later, his voice came over the communications patch, again. "I have visual confirmation that it's marking their hull plating but it isn't having an effect!"

There was a burst of static followed by another pilot. The hind-end of their conversation could be heard. "…Two, Fox Two away. …Damn it! The concussive force and warhead were absorbed by some sort of energy bubble. These bandits have some sort of shields, people!"

A commanding voice came over the communications patch of all the pilots. "This is Watson… I appreciate the professionalism but we need to lose the brevity codes, ladies and gentlemen. We need to discuss this when we get back but, for now, please lose the trade chatter."

"What's he talking about?" asked another pilot.

Doomsday replied, "This is unofficial, talk like it. Coming through – the boys and I are coming through; this gang snaps its fingers so watch out." The delta formation squadron blazed through the swarm of dots in the sky heading towards a small group of unidentified markets on their screens. "What in the sam-hell are _those_ things?"

"Sidewinder doesn't work," said someone as if making an advisory statement.

Doomsday sighed. "Put your pit-vipers away – we're going to go hot with the New Toy. Okay, boys, New Toy is hot." He punched a few keys on his side panel then reached for his throttle stick again. "Let's give it a try."

"Watch out, Dee Dee, they're on the attack."

Doomsday rolled his eyes at the nickname based on his handle and shook his head with a slight grin. "This is Riff and The Jets – step aside and watch how it's done." He started humming a few bars from West Side Story.

Wild Bill chuckled. "You're a completely different guy in the air. You're practically optimistic in the cockpit."

"I'm high on endorphins," said Doomsday, adding, "Here we come, keep it together and snap those fingers." A short pause, he then added, "Bill, in the original Wing Commander, the Raptor is the best ship… But y'know what? I'm indifferent about it." He engaged the new weapon system on the front of the Raptor and opened fire. The shield bubble around the unidentified ships glowed brightly but the ship quickly jerked from left to right then pulled up, climbing for altitude.

"No damage," said Tailhook.

"The hell you say," replied Bill. "Did you see the way that thing jerked away? Like a child whose finger was just burned! Do it again, Doom!"

Doomsday fired the weapon again at another ship that came across. "When you're a Jet, you're a Jet all the way, from your first cigarette to your last dyin' day…" He gritted his teeth, humming a few bars, then continued, "When you're a Jet, let'em do what they can; you've got brothers around, you're a family man." The trio of Raptors increased in speed and the modified mobile THEL system fired again. It struck another ship's shields but he stayed with it as the ship pulled away.

A warning system indicator screamed in protest; the system began to overload but Doomsday kept with them. "This hunk of junk needs to hold together," he murmured. "This thing isn't going to last," he murmured. The powerful laser beam continued to hammer away at the shields of the ship. Quite suddenly, the shields dissolved. "I… it worked! Arming pit-viper!" He loaded the AM9X Sidewinder into the ready and fired it. The heat seeker missile struck the enemy fighter, scorching the hull plating. It knocked the fighter off course but didn't destroy it.

"Make another go," said Bill. A particle buildup occurred; the unidentified fighter began charging his forward-mounted cannons. "He's going weapons hot!" Seconds after the warning, the fighter began firing at a group of fighters not far from Doomsday and his crew. In the distance, they saw an F-22 Raptor blow apart. Its ejection seat went spinning away from the orange ball of flames.

Doomsday groaned. "There's a hundred-and-fifty-million down the tube. Can these things be outrun?"

"Negative," said someone from another squadron. "They're fast and their fighters out run and out maneuver us. We've been tangling with these things since you got up on the flight deck. They don't joke around. Smiley used the Vulcan cannon on'em; it leaves one hell of a mark on their outer hull plating but it doesn't do much more than that, thus far. You're the first one to hurt'em." The pilot paused then said, "We're going to need Search and Rescue out here – Smiley's about to take a plunge in the big drink." One of the fighters zipped by at an outrageous speed, surpassing mach four. It banked then came about, heading back towards the cluster of Raptors.

Doomsday shook his head with a sigh. "This is getting out of hand. We can hardly fight these things. I hit him with a missile and it didn't kill – hell it didn't do much more than mar his outer hull." He then added, "Break and attack, you two. Give me some sort of cover – I'm going to try one more time on this thing." He located the one without the energy shield and began chasing after it. There was a massive scorch mark on the side, making it easy to locate. Doomsday punched his afterburners and said, "I'm nothing like Doomsday from that game, Bill… when I fly, it's the only time I can see the glass half full… but this guy doesn't seem beatable." He darted and evaded like a ballet dancer but the unknown fighter easily out maneuvered him. "These guys make supercruise look like a leisurely stroll."

Wild Bill came up into the fray. "Let me clock in some time with this guy."

"You've got it, Top Gun. He's all yours."

Tailhook came through from the west, forming back up with Doomsday. "Let's get some intelligence on this guy and see what he's capable of, huh?" They moved up, passed the fighter, flirting with danger to see what sort of weapon systems the fighter had. Meanwhile, Bill moved behind it.

The fighter was about as lissome as the Raptor; Bill worked to stay behind the enemy bandit. "What's your new Brevity, Doom? Pit Vipers? That's going to take some getting used to. Fox two – yeah… Pit… Viper away." The sidewinder missile streaked out from beneath the Raptor, coming into view. It struck the engine port on the backside of the fighter until the entire aft section was charred with black on the hull. He immediately fired a second one, striking the center of the main booster. The metallic plating appeared chewed up from the shrapnel discharge of the Mighty Mouse and Zuni 'High Explosive" fragmentation warheads. However, it was still far less effective than they'd hoped.

"It's working!" shouted a female's voice.

"Revlon?" Tailhook asked. "You're up here, too?"

"Yeah, that's me – look at the fighter, though!" she told the group. "I see sparking and smoke starting to come from his engine compartment! Try it again, guys!"

"Fox two away," said Wild Bill. Another missile chassis slammed into the back of the unknown bandit. Two other fighters came into the immediate area, one from above and one from the south. They trained their main guns on the rear section of the fighter, attempting to concentrate burst fire on the backside of the unknown hostile. The dark plume that trailed the mysterious fighter began to thicken. Three other ships came about, shooting into the crowd of Raptors to disperse the group.

Doomsday grunted. "It's taking half a dozen of us beating the tar out of him to even hurt him! He took down Smiley in _one_ shot!" A particle cannon blast raced between Tailhook and Doomsday. Revlon's voice came back over the channel, offering a gasp of surprise. Another energy weapon blast passed near Doomsday's craft, narrowly missing it.

"Hold together," he demanded of his craft. "C'mon, Bill… give it another missile – you should have a few more left!"

"I'm working on it!" replied Wild Bill. He fired his afterburners just to keep up. "Damn these guys can move!" He concentrated his guns on the backside of the bandit while another sidewinder moved into place beneath his fighter. He fired it off and the missile chassis disappeared in the rear booster of the fighter. An explosion rocked the unknown fighter, blowing off entire panels of armored metal from the backside.

Bill lay down on his guns and readied another missile. "This is it, dude. Your ass is grass and my name is John Deere!" He continued to line up the shot, moving in time with the rapid and graceful fighter craft, while the Heads Up Display's targeting reticule danced about on the HUD screen. "Almost… almost got it…" The unknown hostile began to climb in speed, rapidly accelerating to outrun the Raptor. Bill gritted his teeth. "…No you don't."

He throttled up and punched the afterburners then narrowed his gaze. "Fox _three_." Another missile raced from beneath his fighter, lurching up to four times mach. The Slammer missile raced through the gap between the two fighters.

Doomsday winced, watching the missile race after the unknown fighter. "That missile costs more than my house," he murmured, watching it race after the target. The Raytheon-made missile, employing a ramjet engine, began to close on the retreating fighter. It came within a number of feet from the engine casing then exploded in a brilliant flash, tearing into the backside of the oddly shaped jet.

The damaged fighter began to shake wildly then break apart into three pieces. Finally, an explosion ripped through the remains and it went down over the incredible blue expanse, laid out far below. Revlon called out to the team. "No indication of ejection – stand by!"

"Good kill, good kill!" shouted Tailhook. "Now, do we all have enough combined missiles to take down these other three?!"

"Move, move!" cried another pilot. "Here they come!"

Watson's voice came back over the main channel. "Our friends are joining you, now. Hold your ground, pilots."

Doomsday glanced down at his instruments then blinked. "Only _one of them_ is coming to help? There are _three of these things_, Mother Hen; it's a struggle up here!"

Watson replied, "Keep sharp, Doomsday. Our friends have assured me that this is _not_ a problem. Also, S'n'R is on its way to pick up Smiley."

"Look at that thing!" said another pilot in the distance. Almost all the Navy pilots turned to see the incoming Arwing fighter. "I have _got_ to get me one of _those_!"

* * *

**Fox McCloud** drummed his fingertips over a panel on the side of his cockpit. Up ahead, he could see a small warm of US Navy pilots crowding around a downed Venom 'Flea' class fighter that had crashed in the Pacific Ocean. They circled like buzzards, proud of their singular kill. Meanwhile, they were evading three other Fleas, in an attempt to stay alive.

Fox charged his main guns, causing a vibrant green glow at the tip of his Arwing fighter. On his Heads Up Display, a lock square appeared over one of the Venom ships as it came down at a high rate of speed. McCloud grinned, eagerly. In the last six months, he'd only shot down the fighter that took out Krystal recently. He was ready to dogfight. He locked on and released the trigger button. The charged shot raced through the void, arced about then struck the Flea fighter head on. The Venomian ship burst into metallic confetti; its wings spiraled off of the left and right sides in a fantastic display of destruction. A serenade of cheering came over the radio channel.

Fox's twin blaster cannons roared to life, tearing apart another fighter, causing the Venom ship to burst within seconds. The final target appeared as a small dot with a square around it in the distance. He eased back on the control stick then held down the trigger. The Flea danced about evasively. Fox tapped the boost, coming in for the kill quickly. The Arwing surpassed Mach four with ease and the main blaster cannons ripped into the Flea from the left. The enemy fighter exploded. McCloud furrowed his brows in confusion. "Why aren't these guys ejecting?" he wondered aloud.

With the Navy pilots utilizing their in-ear translators, Revlon was the first to reply. "We were wondering that as well. The one we took down had plenty of time – it's obvious he chose _not_ to eject. We'll need to find the remains before someone else does. What are they?"

Fox frowned. He imagined Andross giving orders about staying in their fighters to the death, or worse – possibly ordering his crew to disable the ejection seats on all fighters… "They were Venom fighters – it's been quite some time since I've had to shoot one down. Other than the escort ships that chased down Krystal over the East Coast last week, it's been months since I've been able to shoot down a target. I don't understand why they're suddenly here, on Earth. It doesn't make sense. They should have all the recon they need – there's no reason these four should have been out here. However, if they're trying to sneak around… then these four won't be the last ones. This could get tricky."

"Let's let Naval Intelligence figure that one out," came the voice of one of the men that Fox and Krystal had interviewed less than an hour ago.

Fox sighed. "Yes, of course – still… I'd sure like to know what they were doing here. It was a pretty bold move, that's for sure. Good job on taking one of them down, pilots. I appreciate your hard work."

"Are you kidding?" said Doomsday. "We swarmed him and it took almost all of us to wear him down. Not only that, Smiley paid the price. I never saw a chute on his seat and I haven't heard a single word about him. I'm worried about that kid. We're no match against those things – they're awesome machines."

McCloud's muzzle contorted into a moue of absolute disgust. "Awesome machines? The Venom Flea-class fighter is the absolute rock bottom fighter that Andross employs. He hopes that by sheer numbers, he'll be able to _annoy_ an Arwing and its pilot. Still, I know your fighters don't have the technology to fight those things – you'll need weapons capable of doing the job and a shielding system as well as engines capable of making the fight fair. Again, good job. I appreciate your hard work and dedication."

"You took one of them down in a single shot," said another pilot. "You only used ship's guns – I didn't see any missiles during your whole _three minute engagement_."

"I didn't use any missiles," murmured Fox. "Fleas are small time – guns were all I needed. Look, let's head home. A search and rescue effort has already been launched to find your missing pilot. Let's keep our fingers crossed. Everyone, form up on me in groups of three." McCloud then changed the frequency of the communications channel. Peppy's face showed up on the holo-bar above his Heads Up Display. "Hey, old man… do we have the resources to build M-Class machines?"

Peppy Hare glared at Fox. "Even if it was simple enough to put human pilots into Cornerian technology, regardless of how outdated it is… there's one problem."

The vulpine pilot rubbed his chin. "Uhm… We don't have the materials to make the equipment?"

"No, that would take a while but it's not impossible." Peppy sighed and shook his head. "But we don't have the production line and the facilities used by Corneria and Katina to build the armored plating of the M-Class or Arwing. We don't have the chemists to help us piece together the alloy bonding process to make it correctly. However, I've been studying some of the human technology and it's possible to design a fresh fighter with superior combat armor – then we can work on giving them shield generators."

"Is that a good idea?"

Peppy shrugged then adjusted his glasses. "They have something called Monoloy 454, a single-crystal alloy for high temperature situations. It doesn't quite have pervasive combat arena applications though. But Slippy's father was looking at it and Slippy made a suggestion. Beltino took the idea and created a piece of metal with what they're calling "Biloy" Yeah… weird. Apparently 'bi' means 'two'. So… it's a twin-crystal alloy for high temperatures and attack stress. It can handle four thousand American 'Fahrenheit' degrees, or standard thermite. It could work well to repel energy attacks once shield generators fail. It would be durable in any situation except where if the plating was frozen by means of, say… liquid nitrogen. At that point, it would shatter more easily than most metal alloys."

Fox cleared his throat. "Look, it sounds easy… yeah, it's cold in space… just wrap it around the engines and heat spreaders, like in a computer or whatever. Then the engines will always keep the hull warm enough that it won't have compromised integrity in deep space. The thing is, we don't want them to have the technology to take this machine out into deep space anyhow… They'll only need it for the defense of their planet so the engines don't have to be something capable of that sort of travel anyhow. So long as they can survive their own stratosphere, that's all that matters. Look, these guys are going to need a major shake down and I'm almost positive they just lost a pilot." He sighed sourly and frowned. After a pause, McCloud said, "I'll be home shortly. Fox out."

Peppy rubbed his chin. "You're on to something, there, Fox… I'll talk to Slippy and Beltino – using the hull to help dissipate the heat would make sense, so long as you don't land on Fichina and leave your fighter sit for a few hours. By the time you come back to it, you'd be at a serious disadvantage if you took a direct attack. Fox, we're staffed with a physician a dentist and a barber but… I suggest you send these men to Krystal with their grief needs. She's the only one around equipped to handle this sort of thing."

"Yeah… I suppose. Fox out." He closed the channel and sighed then opened a channel to Commander Watson. "All enemies dispatched – we're ready to come home. Prep your crews. Fox out." He closed the frequency before Watson could say much over the line.

* * *

The Arwing moved to the far end of the carrier deck and landed, vertically, on the elevator. The lift lowered; the Arwing was quickly wheeled into the belly of the ship, hidden away from possible eyes. The canopy lifted and the foul stench of jet fuel was pungent to the vulpine pilot's nose.

He was greeted by his mate in a wheel chair. Behind her was Fay. Fox approached the two females and said, "Krystal, they lost someone." He frowned. "And I think they may wish to talk to you on a one-on-one basis at some point."

Fay frowned with a shake of her head. "That's horrible news."

Krystal nodded in reply. "Of course, they can see me when necessary. I saw a great deal of the situation on screen. It appears that these pilots are tenacious and fight their hearts out. They've earned my respect, today. I wish I could have been up there with you."

Fox smiled lightly and leaned in, hugging his mate. "In time; it won't be too long."

Fay tilted her head. "Do we have other pilots or…?"

Krystal lifted her head to her friend and said, "I heard we're headed to a country known as Japan. We'll take on workers and a few more crewmembers… We'll also be receiving pilots from the countries of Germany, France, England, Australia, Finland, Italy and Russia. They're the finest pilots and were put through a rigorous program to test their piloting and their ability to keep a secret. They were strictly selected and, as we did earlier, I'll be personally wading through the group to determine if they're trustworthy."

Fox nodded and kissed her softly, brushing his lips against her own, kneeling over the wheelchair. "I want to stay Venom-free between now and then."

"One can hope," murmured Krystal.

"Isn't that the truth," added Fay.

* * *

A/N: _Wow. I've had a long week, lol. This chapter was finished like… almost two weeks ago but I've been sick and busy some this week. Thanks for reading! Some of you will notice that I changed the name of this story to something more meaningful that also made more sense. I hope to finish several chapters of this story very soon. Once I finish the last chapter of Dawn of Progeny (Sly Cooper), and the last 2 chapters or so of Spy Cooper, I plan on finishing Reflections of Marcus McCloud and Fox McCloud, this story, Similar Paths Taken, The Curse (Nearly there, as it is), and Castlevania: Claws of Fate. _

_There's a lot of fun to be had in this story. It can go a lot of ways now that I've chosen to stray from the original plot course that I wrote about in those big three ring binders back in the 90's… The plot got silly from this point on… Now that I'm older and more mature, I'd like to take the opportunity to make it more believable to an extent… and make this story something that, to me, would be even more fun. _

_So yeah… stuff! Thanks for reading! I appreciate it!!_

_-Kit _


	7. Chapter 11 by itself

Chapter -11-  
"_Complications_"

**Miyu Lynx placed her paws against the warm Arwing** hull. She traced her finger along the armored plating seam then smiled and glanced over her shoulder at Fox. "When is my next patrol? I'm jealous you got to see action."

McCloud adjusted his silver jacket with a firm tug at the hem. "_BE_ jealous, Miyu. This is kinda' serious. Today may mark the first human casualty… and to a freak that I should have stopped _several_ times. Andross should be rotting in his grave by now, yet he's still out there waving his anti-Cornerian torch… this is all my fault."

"Whoa!" Miyu turned around and placed her left paw on the flat of his chest. "Slow down, McCloud. We _all _know that on the rare occasion you let your mood affect your temper, it goes south real fast and you _blow-the-hell-up_. Y'know what you just did today?" She lifted her other paw, cupping her palm beneath his muzzle, directing his eyes until they locked with her own. "You saved a _bunch_ of other pilots, today. Watson said he wanted to see how the Raptors would fare against those Flea fighters. He _waited_ until someone ejected before letting you get out there to help. It was _his_ gamble! Know what he proved? The new energy weapon… mobile THEL …thing… it WORKS… but it's NOT enough. And if that pilot didn't survive, he paid the price to help provide his world with valuable information. Please don't take this upon yourself – Fox, I mean it."

He stared at her for a moment then he looked away, pushing against her palm in an attempt to get by her. She backed up, keeping pace with him. Fox lowered his gaze to the deck, between their feet. "Miyu, if Search and Rescue finds this guy's corpse, it's going to be hard. I'm the head pilot of everyone here… and one of the pilots was lost. I don't take losing a person very well… you remember Fara – she just disappeared out of nowhere and…"

"Fox!" She brought both paws up and closed them around his elongated muzzle. "Stop it. I remember Fara and you're right… She disappeared faster than a soap opera character. It's as though she was written out of the story-line of life because of some sort of drama between the creators and the publisher. Whatever, Fox. It is what it is; for all we know she could be alive, working as a black operations agent with a new identity. How can you blame her disappearance on yourself? You've never lost a man, Fox. And if it happens, I'll _expect_ you to take it gracefully and honor that pilot to the best of your ability. Nothing more, nothing less. Are we clear?"

Fox reached for her wrists, drawing her paws from his maw. He tightened his jaw and draw in a long, slow breath. "The part that I find difficult is the fact that… we came here to do the job ourselves. We have pilots I trust and care about but they're pilots that I respect as warriors, in a sense. You guys know what you're getting into, here. You signed up for this because you wanted to. Nothing I could have done would have stopped you. These guys are on the defense. They didn't ask for this crap because they have no idea what they're getting into. Now they're flying for us. And some of them _will_ die – people die in wars and Andross is out there preparing for an invasion. This will turn into a war and guess what? I'm finding it difficult to swallow the fact that people are going to die because I couldn't do MY job properly two times prior to now by killing Andross. Furthermore, I never asked for these pilots to be put into the line of fire to _help_ me. I'm a mercenary. My team is comprised of volunteers. You and Fay volunteered. These guys are being ordered by their governments to go out there and give their lives, regardless of what they or their family wants. I understand that you _sign up_ for the military but I don't like the fact that they _force you_ to do their whim because you had no idea what you were signing up for when you were standing in the recruiting office. It's just…"

"Stop it," she said, narrowing her gaze. The lynx ground her molars together then drew in a long, slow breath to calm down. "Fox, you're not God's gift to aviation. Be humble enough to accept help when it's offered to you." She extended a crimson lacquered nail and jabbed him in the chest. "It might even save your life one day. That's right. One of these human flyboys might actually keep you from punching out. Unless, of course, you _want_ to clock out early. I don't think you do. You watch their backs but they're here to watch yours. Yes they were ordered to do it, but they were also carefully selected. Rarely does _any_ military _ever_ handpick people. Typically, they grab a group of people and throw them into a situation to analyze battlefield intelligence. These guys were handpicked, sent to a school to fly a plane that is considered superior in a different branch office… and from what I understand, the military went above and beyond to make these superior fighters capable of operating on this big-ass barge. That's an investment, Fox."

He pushed passed her, heading across the deck. "An investment in what," he retorted, throwing his paws up into the air as he headed for a hatch door.

"An investment in YOU!" she exclaimed. "In the hope that you can do what you've promised! …To put a stop to that bastard! And for the record, what the hell is he doing out there, anyhow? He's just sitting out there, biding his time! Maybe _we_ should do our _own_ reconnaissance, Fox – ever thought it might be a good idea to study more than just their patrol schedules? So what if we can mathematically determine how many pilots they have by studying their patrols? They might have ten thousand idiots or five hundred aces up their sleeve! We can't tell that by watching diamond formations fly around Neptune and back! We need to find out what the hell THEY are up to and WHY they're taking their time! It's NOT like Andross to take his time!"

McCloud grunted, turning the hatch lever to open the metallic door. "That's where you're wrong, Miyu." He glanced over his shoulder and frowned. "Corneria deported him like a piece of trash, thinking that would be the end of things. But if you throw trash in the river, it eventually winds up in the ocean and… it never really went away, now did it? That piece of crap was content to hide out on Venom, bide his time and build his forces before the first attack on Lylat… He's doing it again, now. I know he is." Fox stepped through the door and pulled it shut behind him, leaving Miyu alone on the lower deck.

She drew her paw back and ran her fingers through the short head-fur between her ears. "GOD, I get so frustrated with people in command!" She threw her paws into the air.

"Mademoiselle, what seems to be your predicament?" A smooth male's voice caused the feline to stop in her tracks and sniff at the air. He approached from between two Hornets nestled together near the row of F35 fighters in the back of the bay. The tanned white male walked with a swagger, dressed in faded denim jeans and a flowing burgundy shirt with a black vest.

Of all the people Miyu had seen on Earth, his sense of fashion and his confident stride surprised her. She paused; her eyes lowered to drink in his posture then slowly raked up over his form once more to take in his toned figure. Her crystal blue hues sparkled with interest. A smirk tugged at the corner of her muzzle. "Haven't you ever argued with your wing commander before?"

"Oui, I've done that, ma chère." He stuffed his hands into his back pockets and watched her eyes until they returned to a locked gaze. "Comment t'appelles-tu?" he approached her then, slowly, began to circle the aristocratic looking feline.

"My translator is only designed for English and Japanese, I'm afraid," she murmured, curious about his mannerisms.

"I know, I keep forgetting," he replied, adding, "None of the other pilots understand French when I speak it, even with their translator. My mistake. I understand these devices are capable of holding quite a number of vocabulary words and the, ah, unabridged dictionary used has nearly filled it's petite circuits to near capacity; I asked what is your name?"

She watched him circle keeping her head stationary. Her eyes flitted from left to right, watching him come back around her on the other side. "Miyu Lynx. I'm not really part of team Star Fox. I'm here as a volunteer and a friend."

"And you argue with the team's leader, non? So then perhaps you have style, ma chère. There is nothing wrong with such." He drew his hands free and folded his arms across his chest. "How is the English language working for you? Learn any of it without the translator yet?"

"Nah." She had to admit, he had a nice figure for a human, not to mention she liked the way he carried himself. "So are you a pilot, or are you down here to eavesdrop on my conversation?"

"I _am_ a pilot, chaton." He stood up straight with his shoulders level and his head up like a soldier. However, his hair was a bit longer than the average military pilot. "Around pilot country, they call me Gambit. It's a joke and I don't expect you to understand it – the name comes from a superhero character in a comic book. A comic is a collection of pictures with limited narration written into the illustration panels; they tell the story through quotation bubbles drawn towards the character that's speaking. Converse to the name, I'm not much of a gambler. I don't even like playing cards… but more than once I've gone 'all in' during a dogfight where I appeared to have poor odds."

She nodded slowly, cocking her brows up. "Okay, so how did you get your nickname as Gambit?"

He offered her a smile, "Because, ma chatte, the character is from the Louisiana Bayou. He's written to speak the way I speak and… perhaps some of the pilots I flew with on my last tour were fans of the comic books, oui? We speak a good deal of French publically down in the bayou. It's not too unlike France in many ways, belle."

"Oh? And how is it like France?" She didn't even _know_ where this 'Louisiana' was, or if it was another country all together.

"Because," said Gambit with a sly grin. "To the southwest, we have Spanish speaking people who are worthless to us. To the north, we have English-speaking people who don't have a clue. If you look around the wonderful Lee'zee'anna bayou, you'll find an assortment of the finest wine and if you look past a little dirt, you'll see a world of culture. Just like France… only smaller." He appeared pleased with himself, looking as though he'd possibly rehearsed his little speech for an occasion such as this.

"Is that right?" She immediately liked his personality and began walking. She knew he'd fall into step and, without even hesitating, the gentleman proved her correct. As they walked through the flight hanger, they continued their conversation. Miyu sashayed her hips. Being a lynx, her tail was nearly nonexistent, giving her a rather human appearance from behind. "Are you always this pleasant?"

"Non, ma chatte, I can be quite reserved when the situation calls and to answer your previous question… I'm not down here to eavesdrop; I wanted to fly but Watson didn't want to send every pilot in the first wave. So, I came down here to compare your bird to ours," he trailed off then lifted his hand to a nearby F-22 Raptor. "Our… canard. It is quite a juxtaposition when seeing them adjacent to one another, m' chouchou." He stopped and turned towards her, rubbing his chin as though he were admiring a painting. "Tu as de beaux yeux. As blue as the sea…"

"You're out there," she murmured.

"Tu es mignon," he countered. He began walking without her. This time, she fell in step with the human male, intrigued by him for a reason she couldn't quite understand. As they passed by the enormous Raptor, he gave its hull a pat. They ducked beneath the port wing then again beneath horizontal stabilizer. While the female feline doubled over to pass below the wings, Gambit hunched over to the side, as if leaning his head towards her at elbow level; he passed beneath it, his hair brushing beneath the smaller rear 'wing'. "If you think I am flirting with you, chérie, you're right… I am."

Her brows arched once more. "And why is that? Hasn't anyone ever told you…? Aliens or not, a woman of any species is difficult to handle."

Gambit noted her grin of challenge, fascinated by her human-like facial expression. "Touché. I never asked to sleep with you tonight, m'amie. I'm not here to ask you to be ma minette, in any way shape or form; I saw you were down here walking the hanger because you wanted to fly. At once, I knew we had something in common. Your friend with the ironic first name checked his ship over after his flight and I made sure to stay clear while you two argued. I'm impressed you stood up to him – that's when I realized we had even more in common. Oui, I heard the conversation – the way he treated you a bit like an outcast made me come to realize that I needed to know you better. Know that my eavesdropping was not done out of disrespect, ma chatte. It happened because I have good hearing and you speak loud and very clear."

Miyu deadpanned for a moment, staring at the deck as they walked. A uniformed crewman came by them with a clipboard in his hand. He nodded to Gambit in passing but kept his eyes on Miyu and continued across the deck until he was out of earshot. His pace showed that he was busy, while Gambit and Miyu walked casually and a relaxed pace.

Once she was sure they were alone again, Miyu lifted her head and glanced sidelong as the human male. "So where are the pithy, flirty one liners?"

This time Gambit was the one to cock an eyebrow, showing no further emotion on his face. After a brief pause, he stuffed his hands into his pockets again and shook his head. "You wanted to hear tactless pickup lines?" His Cajun accent was gritty but didn't translate very well over the in-ear unit.

"I'm not _always_ classy. Sometimes, I want to be talked to like life isn't so damned serious all the time." She noticed the way he put his hands into his pockets and pondered to herself if she'd somehow made him feel uncomfortable.

However, Gambit's eyes softened and before long a grin spread across his lips. "You won't get cheap little one-liner pickups from me, ma chatte. I have no couth with that sort of thing. Besides, doing so is dabbling in the taboo unknown. We're… quite different, non?"

"Yes, we surely are. Then again, we're an awful lot alike, too." She glanced to the side, watching as he walked adjacent to her. Her eyes then lowered back to the deck as they passed another Raptor. This time they deviated their walking path, staying just beyond the expanse of the wing. Her nose twitched in irritation of the stench; she was getting used to the jet fuel but it was still quite fragrant. Her eyes lowered quickly then flitted up and over, looking him over curiously. "But I doubt you could do anything _for_ me, even if we were compatible or of the same species."

He snorted in a mocking way then abruptly announced, "You could never be more wrong, chérie."

"No, I heard you have a saying here on this planet; Revlon told me," said Miyu with a grin. "Women are _never_ wrong. It sounds like someone has figured it out on this planet… so I can't understand why this species isn't already a hundred times more advanced – men haven't figured it out on Corneria, that's for sure."

"No_, I'm_ saying you're wrong. If I told you otherwise, I'd be lying to you and I could never lie to a lady. You said I could never do anything for you, _even if_ we were the same species – I'm disagreeing with you."

Miyu rolled her eyes, hiding her smile. She was enjoying the attention and his flirty advances. "Listen, '_Gambit'_. I date a woman back on my world because I've _yet_ to _find_ a man who could satisfy my curiosities or sate my needs. Like I said, _you_ couldn't do anything for me."

He sneered in reply and shook his head. "You're wrong, chérie. I'd wreck you like the world trade center. You wouldn't even know what hit you – you'd be bowlegged for a week and sit on pillows the next time you were in your cockpit, I guarantee."

"O'ho!" She swatted him playfully right at the small of his back. "If anything, _you'll_ be the one crashing and burning, flyboy." She laughed softly with a shake of her head but his flirty offer was, in a sense, intriguing. She couldn't help but wonder. Meanwhile, the two pilots continued to cross the hanger bay, heading towards the backside of the ship. They continued to exchange playful dialogue as they moved through the belly of the unfinished beast.

* * *

**Jackie Harrison and Lieutenant Jeremiah James sat** in silence across the table from Krystal and Fox McCloud. The NORAD officer laid down a playing card on the table then quickly glanced over at the CIA agent with a stoic look on her face. She reached over to the deck of cards and drew one from the top. She slid it, face down across the green felt table until it came to stop in front of Jeremy's hands. He took it and drew it into his collection.

Fox looked to his mate then quickly away, trying to reduce the temptation of receiving help from her telepathic powers. He glared at the playing table for a moment then glanced back at his cards. Finally he looked down at his lap, reading the hint sheet of possible card combinations for this game. His eyes lifted back to his playing hand, noting that he had two of the same card, a 'two' and two of another card, a 'nine'. Two pair. It was actually a pretty good hand. He just had to decide the mathematical statistical probability of either human having a better hand – not easy.

The worst part of it was the fact that Krystal probably already knew who had a better hand. She wasn't playing; instead they sat around her wheelchair with this folding card table, with Fox sitting there, pondering his next move. "I see why your race enjoys this game so much," he murmured. "It's tense and can be standoffish. It gets the mind off of other things."

Harrison glanced over at Jeremy with a grin then back at Fox and Krystal. "It's only tense if you desire to win to the point where you create the tension."

Jeremy grinned. "Fox puts up a better game than Decker did, back at my old post. And that guy wasn't too bad, either. But he loved to play and he loved to smoke cigars and drink scotch… a real man's man."

Jackie furrowed her brows. "Yeah… didn't you say he also drove a corvette to work? He sounds like a read hedonist."

"I suppose." Jeremy grinned.

Meanwhile, McCloud was pondering his next move. If he traded in his fifth card, he stood a chance of increasing his hand but, no matter what he got, he wouldn't hurt what he already had. However, if he stayed as he was, he could possibly intimidate them into folding their hand by thinking he was dealt a fantastic first run. He remained stoic for now.

The Lieutenant leaned back in his seat, comfortable and relaxed. "Here we are, waiting to hear from Watson on what to do next. Back east, the Coast Guard is busting their chops to pull the Venom fighters out of the ocean… and The Ford is now two days from Yokosuka, Japan. Here we are playing cards – I almost feel guilty that we've got it so easy."

"I suppose," replied Fox with a frown. "Out of eight rounds, I've only won two rounds."

Jeremy grinned in rebuttal. "I'm the mathematical guy and I've not yet won a single hand, so don't feel bad." He cut his eye to Jackie; he was only loosing to her because he wanted to get closer to her. He cut his eyes to Krystal who offered him a secret nod, confirming to him that his advances were working on Jackie.

An electronic sound caught everyone off guard. Fox moved away from the table and Krystal carefully eased herself from the wheeling chair. She slowly trudged towards the intercom box on the wall, approaching Fox. She studied it for a moment then placed a paw on Fox's arm to put him at bay while using her other paw to manipulate the color-coded buttons on the front panel.

"Go ahead," said Krystal in a soft voice.

"Sorry to disturb you." The voice belonged to Watson. "I'd like you both to join me on the flight deck. Search and Rescue found Smiley." The communication link ended.

Krystal turned back to Jackie and Jeremy. "Why don't you two go and take a walk somewhere quiet? Perhaps we can finish this another time." She then placed a paw on Fox's wrist. "I didn't sense any depressing indications from him, Fox. I think the pilot may have survived." She immediately felt relief emanating from her mate and offered him a reassuring smile. "Let's not keep Commander Watson waiting." The two vulpine pilots stepped out of the room.

Two guards came alongside of them. A third one turned to face Fox and Krystal directly, saluting them as though they were officers. Krystal offered a polite smile and said, "We're heading to the flight deck at the request of Commander Watson – they've found the pilot that ejected earlier today."

He nodded. "Follow me. I'll lock down the hallways between here and there. My men will escort you. I'll clear the path."

"Wait," Krystal said with a frown. "Is that truly necessary? It will be difficult to hide from the entire crew, don't you think?"

"It's our orders, ma'am. For now, until Watson says otherwise, we're here to escort you in a way that keeps non-pilot members away from you. I've already had a report, earlier, of a crew member seeing one of your kind down in the hanger with one of the pilots."

"Fair enough," said Krystal with a frown. "Lead the way." The armed soldier turned away from them and doubled timed his way down the hall, clearing the way and closing off sections of the deck so that Fox and Krystal could make their way through, unseen by the rest of the crew. Krystal shook her head with a sigh. "Oh dear. This is going to prove most difficult should this nonsense continue as is."

Fifteen minutes later, the group made their way out to the flight deck. To the vulpine creatures' surprise, the two guards adjacent to them opened black umbrellas, leading them across the flight deck with their back to the island. Up ahead, a chopper was setting down across the deck. The umbrellas billowed in the wind as they approached the unmarked helicopter, despite it beginning to power-down its rotors. Fox and Krystal quickened their pace, with Krystal limping to keep up. Two medics and the ship's onboard physician came towards them at an angle.

"Move, move!" one of the chopper crewmembers shouted. Everyone moved away from the side of the helicopter, allowing for the crew to help the wounded pilot's stretcher down to the flight deck. "How is he?" asked one of the medics, approaching as a trio.

Krystal turned to Fox and lifted a paw, cupping the side of his head. She brought him towards her and spoke into his ear, over the ambient noise of the helicopter. "He's alive, I can sense his thoughts, Fox! He's very disoriented and scared. The Venom fighter took him out in one shot and it's left quite an impression on him. I fear he's deterred from wanting to fly against Venom again!"

Watson approached Fox and Krystal. He shouted over his shoulder at one of the guards about why they didn't provide her with a wheelchair. One of the soldiers split away, retrieving a folding one from the inside of the helicopter and brought it back to the 'alien' couple. After Krystal was seated, Watson leaned in so they could hear; Fox knelt to one knee next to her.

The Commander had a stern look on his face. "They found something else. Another chopper, my only other one, is bringing back what's left of a wrecked Venom fighter that hadn't yet sunk. The Coast Guard is heading out here at flank speed to try and hunt down whatever is left. However, the part we found was the entire fuselage, minus the stabilizers. We think the cockpit is fully intact and it should be out here any minute."

"Fantastic!" shouted Fox over the roar of the wind and rotors. The engines began to dull in volume, finally. "Maybe it will help us figure out why they've not been ejecting."

"We'll see. I wanted you both here for it, so we can figure out what the hell we're going to be looking at. Afterwards, we'll get it down in the bay and have your amphibian friends, Slippy and Beltino, to look at the remains. We'll be met by a ship coming towards us from Yokosuka and they'll take the remains back stateside so that NASA can sit down and tinker with it, as well as anyone else who gets the chance to do so. It becomes politics at that point."

"All right," said Fox, adding, "Falco, Miyu and Fay are scheduled for a patrol, first thing in the morning. Should I have them deviate while your ship heads out to meet us?"

"No, they won't be here that early in the morning," replied Watson. As the rotor noise died down, their volume lowered to a respectable outdoor level. "Japan isn't exactly across the streets. We're doing thirty-five knots and have an entire ocean to cover. Our biggest ocean at that." He glanced at Krystal and asked, "Did I overhear you say that you sensed the thoughts of that pilot we just brought in?" He peered over her shoulder, watching as the medical team rushed him across the deck in the wheeling cart.

"I did, Commander Watson," she replied. "He's okay but very sore. He's a little… he's _very_ concerned and what happened to him as him very shaken. He's already considering how he's going to ask permission to leave, because he sees the Venom ships as something they can't fight. He still has no idea that the USN pilots managed to take one down before Fox arrived. I believe he ejected because he saw the energy blast coming towards him – I sense that he doesn't trust his instruments, leaving me to assume that they didn't warn him. He's…"

Watson nodded and sighed. "He's not living up to his flight handle. Smiley was one of the most up-beat guys, if not a little _weird_ to some degree. But he was a good pilot."

Fox nodded, jaw tight. "Yes, a little weird… Krystal sensed that during our initial interview with him and two other pilots. We didn't say anything; but we both felt that he was a little… strange."

Watson face-faulted. "He's the one that had lewd thoughts upon first meeting the two of you?"

Krystal's eyes widened. "How did you know? Did Wild Bill or Doomsday tell you this?"

"Actually, no… Smiley told one of the other pilots from that session… they caused the word to get back to me later on down the line… we call it 'scuttlebutt' and usually do our rumor-milling around the water fountain, which we also call a 'scuttlebutt'. A lot of rumors fly in the barbershop, the geedunk bar or in the recreational areas. No doubt people are telling one another what the two of you look like."

Krystal frowned with a nod. "About that, Commander… these men are eventually going to see us. We're too close for them not to figure it out at some point. Many still doubt we're even here and conclude that this is some sort of Naval secret testing, using 'aliens' as disinformation. Perhaps we should begin interviewing the rest of your crew and make it so that everyone can trust one another?"

Watson blinked. "You want me to have over nine hundred people line up on the flight deck so you can walk by them and scan everyone to see if they're trustworthy?"

"That would be mentally draining," mused the petite blue vixen. "Perhaps we can do it by group. I understand that the Navy ties each person to their 'social security number' so perhaps you can take everyone by the last digit, giving me ten sessions. Anyone I feel is trouble right off the bat will be singled out subtly. Later on, I can talk to them directly and we can make a determination. It's a great deal of work for me but, as I'm confined to the ship due to medical… it would make me feel useful. Also, I can scan the International Pilots we pick up in this 'Japan' you mentioned. I'm willing to work with someone who can't keep a secret, but I'm not willing to work with someone who may suddenly wish to do us harm while hiding amongst our people, here on the ship. Jackie said that some people can be 'fanatical' in certain situations that they don't understand, trust or believe in. It's for the safety of everyone here – also if everyone trusts us… we'll be in a safer situation."

Watson sighed again. "Okay. I'll discuss it with my superiors. I'll let you know first thing in the morning. You said Smiley is going to be all right?"

"He'll be fine, physically, that I can tell…" Krystal paused then frowned. "I should say that _he_ believes he'll be physically fine. If he's in shock and does not yet recognize a broken bone, he would not know about it and, thus, I would not be able to sense such. I only know that he's in general pain and very exhausted from this situation."

"Understood." Watson waved his hand two the trio of Marines. "Until I get an answer, I expect you and your people to adhere to the previous arrangement – the private escort. I'm not sure which one of your pilots was wondering the hanger earlier – I was told the pilot was a female. That leaves either Fay or Miyu… but please… until further notice… allow the escort boys to do their jobs and clear an area before you mill around the ship. Please?"

"Very well," said Krystal. "I'll speak with Fay and Miyu and determine who was at fault. We'll talk to them; it won't happen again."

Watson nodded in appreciation then waved over the three marines. "Corporals," he said, using no name or nickname. "You three take these two back to their quarters once they've had a peek at the wreckage."

"Sir," asked one of the soldiers. "If they agree with Miss Krystal and we change the need for having an escort, will we be shipped out?"

Watson pondered dismissing the enlisted trio without a word but he could see in the man's eyes that all of this affected him as well as everyone else; these boys were part of something historical. The Commander frowned then shook his head. "You would become a security force for the entire ship. You'd be acting as MPs in a sense. You would still provide security for our 'friends', just in case they would require bodyguards for any reason. However, you wouldn't hover over them anymore. By the way, who was assigned to the others?"

The soldier glanced at his two men then back to the Naval Commander. "Sir, I'm not sure who was assigned to the other two female aliens. I'm not sure why one of them was spotted or if it's just a rumor that's gotten out of control. Regardless, it will not happen again."

Watson nodded. "You're dismissed." No one saluted. They simply turned away from Watson and began walking with Fox and Krystal. Two soldiers came to flank the vulpine pilots while the other soldier began pushing Krystal's wheelchair back across the flight deck.

Fox sighed and Krystal ran her fingers back through her hair – no one spoke. She _wanted_ to drum up conversations with the soldiers but sensed that now wasn't the best time for it. They crossed the deck to another incoming chopper. This one had tow cables dangling beneath it with part of a Venom fighter attached. The umbrellas were stowed, now quite far from the conning section of the carrier. The helicopter set down the Venom fuselage on the deck then moved forward a bit and landed not far from it. There were a group of crewmembers out by the landing area that had helped with coordinating the landing of both parts and aircraft.

McCloud asked, "Are they not allowed to see us, either?"

The soldier behind Krystal's chair said, "He wanted you two to scan this thing and make sure there were no survivors. Under the circumstance, contact is permissible. However, these men will be debriefed before leaving the flight deck to ensure secrecy."

Fox and Krystal glanced at one another but neither spoke. The group continued out towards the wreckage. Krystal shook her head at Fox, signaling that she could not sense any life aboard. They approached the crewmembers who immediately began staring until prompted to go about their business by one of the marine boys.

Fox approached the cockpit and carefully dislodged a panel and opened the canopy manually by means of opening a crawlspace in the metal section just to the aft of the cockpit section. He crawled into it… After a moment, he reemerged with a perplexed look on his muzzle. "It's empty! There's a computer box strapped into the cockpit seat; it's wired into the controls! These things were just unmanned drones, which explains why no one ejected."

Krystal rubbed the side of her head. "Alright, I didn't see _that_ coming. I wonder…" She paused then said, "Fox, can you dismount the computer and bring it back to Slippy? Perhaps he can analyze it so that we can determine it's operating range. If we can figure that out, we can see where Andross or his people are hiding… or how close they are… or if they've set up subspace relays to control this unit from his base at the edge of the system."

"I'll need some help, it looks heavy." Fox began to climb back into the remains of the fighter.

Krystal glanced at several crewmembers then pointed at two stout-looking fellows. "You two boys, could you please help Fox retrieve the unit?" She blinked, sensing McCloud's needs and added, "Fetch cutting tools first, please." She then turned back to the soldier behind her wheelchair and said, "Now you see how difficult it will be to hide us from the crew."

"I'm just following orders, ma'am," replied the soldier. He didn't look a day older than twenty-two, if that.

"I know," she told him. "I respect that. You take your duty very seriously and I appreciate it… corporal, did he call you?"

"Yes ma'am; it's my rank – E-4. We're not yet allowed to use names – only the pilots get names. It's a bit awkward but we're honored to be here."

She frowned. "Do you have a nickname between you and your men?"

"Yes ma'am – we've all taken a nickname based on what we've named our rifle."

"Pardon?" Krystal's tail flitted from left to right, brushing against the soldier's right knee, behind the wheel chair. "You name your rifles?"

"Yes ma'am – we're told to do so during basic. Typically, we name it a feminine name; it's a bit awkward walking around being referred to as "Betty", but it is what it is and believe me… the sailors aren't about to make a wisecrack towards _any_ of us for referred to one another by the names of our weapons. They know better." He offered a wan grin.

"Out of curiosity, are there any female marines?"

"Yes ma'am. There are three serving on this ship right now. They're actually assigned as guards during the morning hours. One is assigned to you, one to Miss Miyu and one to Miss Fay. They've been chosen to be your morning guards during chow and when you head to the shower, in order to provide you with gender privacy."

Krystal looked amused. "Will I be calling her by a male's name?"

'Betty' chuckled with a shrug. "Depends on what she named her weapon." He nodded towards the man on the left. "This is Deloris and," he shifted his gaze to the soldier on the right of Krystal's chair. "That's Lucy Lu." He glanced over his shoulder then back to the sapphire-furred vixen. "We're hoping you were successful with what you said to Watson – it gives us back our individuality."

Krystal shook her head slowly. "I'm afraid not. Even if we're allowed to be apart of this crew, publically, everyone here will still be confined to absolute blackout silence, with no names or numbers. Very few are allowed to be referred to by their rank. This is very awkward."

"Aren't you telepathic?" asked 'Betty', adding, "Wouldn't that mean you already know our names?"

Krystal nodded. "If you think it aloud in your mind, consciously, I'll know it. However, out of respect for the rules put in place… I'll refer to you as Corporal or by the name of your rifle."

"The nickname idea wasn't part of the 'rules'. We've done that to identify one another. We were told it wasn't breaking any rules, so long as we don't walk around with these nicknames pinned to our uniforms. It's all rather odd."

She licked her lips. "I'll bet." Her eyes shifted back to the Venom fuselage. Two crewman approached it with special power tools. Fox helped them to move the tools in through the crawlspace on the panel behind the cockpit section and they got to work on removing the computerized gear within. Krystal watched, sensing her mate's nervousness.

"What's wrong?" asked the first soldier, still behind her.

A murmur of tone was his reply. "Fox is nervous that the ship may be rigged to explode if the unit is forcibly removed… so far there has been no problems, but he's still nervous." Silence. Several moments passed. Before long, Krystal smiled. "They're done and coming out now… thank goodness." She folded her paws on her lap. "It wasn't tense for you but it was for him and I felt it as well. All right, let's all head in and get some rest. Do you and your boys have to stand guard outside of our rooms tonight?"

"Yes ma'am. We'll be setting up a table in the hallway outside your quarters. Our replacements will show up at zero-six hundred hours. They'll wake you at zero-eight hundred hours to shower and head down to the galley for chow. The galley will be evacuated for one hour so that you and your crew can eat in peace."

Krystal frowned. "Not necessary but… it is the rules until further notice, I suppose." She returned her attention to the remains of the Flea-Class fighter as the three emerged, one having orange fur and a tail. Once everyone was clear of it, they carefully placed the device on a wheeling cart. Fox and Krystal were lead back across the flight deck so that they could turn in for the night.

* * *

…Early

**Eight in the morning came too fast**. Krystal's ear flickered and she rolled away from the warmth of Fox, having snuggled up to him over the course of the night. Her eyes opened, looking up at a smartly dressed woman with brown hair. The girl appeared rather young but had pretty bluish-green eyes and her hair was done up in a way that it could be fairly long without breaking code. Her brown shirt and knee-length skirt looked perfect in every way with ironed creases in all the right places.

The blue-furred vixen stretched, crossing her wrists above her head and pushing her palms against the headboard. She winced, stressing the stitches on her midsection. She paused and looked up at the woman. "Are you named after your rifle, too?"

The woman's eyes widened slightly, her eyebrows raised somewhat. "You speak without the translator?" She reached for the earpiece to remove it.

Krystal lifted her paw. "No, leave it in – I'm the only one who speaks your language." She began to scoot from the bed but Fox unconsciously draped his leg over her hip to keep her from moving away. A grin tugged at the vixen's muzzle and she gave her mate a gentle shove. "Wake up, you." Her paw slid under the blanket then she blinked – her own eyes widened as she felt flesh and fur beneath her fingertips. "Oh my." Blood tinted Krystal's cheeks beneath the fur of her face. Her eyes lifted up to the female marine. "You best give us a moment."

"Yes ma'am." The lady turned away, headed to the door and stood in front of the window, gazing out into the hallway. She remained stoic, blocking the glass pane. "I'm to escort you to the shower stalls; Miss Miyu and Miss Fay are most likely on their way there, now. Should I secure your wheelchair?"

"It hurts," murmured Krystal, trying to wake up Fox with a gentle shove. "But I'll manage. I need to build up the muscle tissue in my abdomen. It has a good deal of mending to do. Just a little bit of walking each day is good for me."

"Understood." She folded her hands together at the small of her back, ever prim and proper.

Krystal leaned down and began to nibble along Fox's ear. He stirred slightly but didn't wake. She then slid a paw down, back beneath the blanket and traced her red-lacquered fingernails down his tummy to where his legs met his torso. Again, she felt a rosy tightness tint her cheeks beneath her facial fur once more. She tried to remember what one of the girls called it… morning wood? Something like that. Fox, however, remained asleep. Finally, semi-frustrated, Krystal gave her mate's rump a firm swat and slid out of bed. "Fine, sleepy head. If nothing I do will wake you, then you can just stay in bed." She pivoted on her rump and stretched, dropping her legs over the side of the mattress. With her feet on the floor, Krystal gently pushed off the mattress and into a standing position.

The woman by the door didn't speak. Krystal cleared her throat and, in a soft tone, asked, "Are men this lazy on Earth?"

"Depends on the man," replied the female soldier. "My brother certainly fits the description of _lazy_. On the other hand, my boyfriend gets up and is immediately awake and alert, bright eyed and…" she paused with a frown.

Krystal finished the sentence, hearing the rest of the phrase in the woman's head. "…And bushy tailed? Is that honestly an expression on your world? How cute."

"I… yes, it is." She remained by the door, facing the window and the hallway beyond it. "Shall I carry something for you, ma'am?"

"That would be very nice of you," said Krystal. She opened a dresser drawer and removed fresh clothing. Clad in a silk nightgown, her tail came out beneath it, causing the hem to hike slightly in the back. She closed the drawer and came alongside of the lady by the door, passing her the fresh clothes. "I've heard several analogies comparing human actions to animals indigenous to this world. I find it adorable."

The woman took the clothes from Krystal. "I'm the only female sergeant of the three of us – the others have started calling me "Sarge" and, if you prefer, you can call me that as well. However, I've been ordered not to give out my name until ordered otherwise. I had to surrender my identification and tags before boarding."

"I heard about that," said Krystal. "It's odd but… if anything happened, everything could be denied."

"You mean… if this character pulled another stunt like yesterday afternoon but was successful in destroying the Ford? They're doing tests on the hull plating and the shield generator frequency of the recovered ship. They're hoping to figure out how to tune the energy weapons to penetrate through the shields of that fighter with a single blast. It seems as though there are more engineers and scientists on this ship than anything else. I'm willing to wager these fools will be in for quite a surprise the next time they're in our area." She opened the door for Krystal and escorted her through the hallway until they arrived in a large bathroom with shower stalls.

True to her prior words, Miyu and Fay were already there with two other women in brown uniforms. Krystal blinked then forced a smile, seeing the other two pilots in the full nude in front of shower stalls. They appeared comfortable with themselves; Krystal immediately sensed that they'd shared stalls in the Cornerian military before.

She removed her nightgown slowly, somewhat nervous about displaying the wound on her body. Krystal's fur was shaven over her stomach and she had a great deal of stitches across her flesh with a matching section on her back.

Miyu immediately crossed the large shower hall and approached Krystal. "Oh _my_! That looks rather painful – I didn't know how extensive it was, Krys! Thank goodness for the surgeons on this world, huh?"

Fay glanced over from across the hall. "Thank goodness for the vulpine creatures in North America. I heard they provided a great deal of blood."

Krystal nodded, passing her nightgown to Sarge. Reluctantly, she stepped into the shower hall, tail drooped low. "Yes, it's a little disheartening to realize that these smaller animals had to give their lives to provide _enough_ blood to save my life. Because there are apparently eleven blood types for the indigenous foxes of this world it was difficult to find enough as is… the ones that couldn't be used were let free… but the ones they could use… it bothers me."

Fay frowned. "I heard your speech on the television the other night. You're right, though – it is kind of neat to know that you're a little bit apart of this world, now. I wonder how the DNA matched up – that doesn't seem possible."

A shrug. Krystal stepped into the hot water, taking an offered container of cleaning solution from Miyu. "It's possible that whatever genetic material that came to Earth million of years ago was from the same source that populated Lylat. And, possibly, because of whatever brought human DNA to this world, the animals that populated this planet never developed? It's difficult to speculate."

She suddenly sensed awkwardness from one of the female soldiers standing guard out by the lockers. Krystal blinked and crossed the shower stall, head tilted. "I'm… terribly, terribly sorry – did I say something offensive?"

The lady looked up then shook her head but Krystal wasn't buying it. After a bit of prompting, the woman finally said, "I believe God, the holy creator of the universe, put us here in his image."

Krystal paused, rubbing her now-wet jaw for a moment. "I'm not disregarding or disrespecting your theories in any way, Miss. I'm purposing the same creator populated many worlds with the same things… some worlds evolved one way, others evolved another. How else could I share familiar DNA with Lylat _and_ this Solar System? We're all related in one-way or another. Both your species and mine are bipedal with two eyes and speak and walk and dance and sing. I'm sure it's all related somehow. I truly meant no disrespect to your beliefs."

"It's fine, ma'am. I shouldn't have said…"

"You didn't, remember? I sensed something was bothering you and prompted you for your opinion – it matters to me; I'm sorry I was even a little offensive."

The marine turned to face Krystal and quite bluntly asked, "Do you have anything like Jesus Christ on your world? The son of God born of the Virgin Mary, who humbly gave his life, dying for our sins to save humanity from the burdons of our original sin… do you have anything like that?"

"Although my system had a very different belief structure, Lylat has something quite similar to Earth," replied Krystal in a matter-of-fact tone. "The lion who was born of a tigress – he became a martyr for his beliefs of saving millions from themselves. The two beliefs are so incredibly parallel to one another that it's impossible to deny they're somehow related – both happened approximately two thousand planetary revolutions ago. However my system had a belief much like the Native American Indians where every object is given a spirit and the spirit of the object is the manifest of its energy which can be changed when turning a piece of wood into, say, a small boat. It's also quite similar to the belief of this ancient Earth religion but perhaps we best not speak of such things at this point in time"

"…Interesting." For some reason Krystal's explanation helped this woman to feel a little better. "I would like to learn more about that at some point. For now, though, let's get ready for chow, Miss Krystal."

Krystal headed back into the shower hall with Miyu and Fay. She placed a paw gently over her stomach as if cradling the stitched area. Fay approached her and discretely asked, "You've discussed religion with Fox? I had no idea; call me curious."

Krystal offered a wan smile. "I think every belief is based in partial truth and that the truest of answers are ours to discover when we pass. It's a very touchy subject and I had no intent on bringing up such with the girl. Although, yes, I've been studying it while I was here – I'm an explorer first and foremost and I was a bit of a scientist on my world. My parents were senators and I was quite serious about comparative analysis of different cultures in my explorations. In fact…" She lowered her voice a bit further. "It was because I was away from the planet when something dreadful happened that I survived – although that's something I'd rather not discuss right now. I mean, shoot… we've not even had breakfast yet." She offered a kind smile and the issue was dropped all together.

Miyu gave Fay a playful shove as she walked back to a shower post. Fay grinned in reply and said, "Aren't you playful now that you've been flirting with someone?"

"Hush, you." They both stole a glance at Krystal who shook her head, sensing the situation with Gambit. Miyu then smirked and said, "I just can't wait to fly again, after breakfast."

Krystal snapped her fingers and turned to Fay. "Oh! I almost forgot… Sweetheart, I know you want to fly with Falco and Miyu but… today I'll need you to help do some training flights with a squadron of human pilots."

Fay nodded. "Okay, I still get to fly… who is going to take my place? Falco still needs _two_ people on his wing."

"Actually," Krystal said, "I was thinking we could send a human pilot up there with those two. It took some serious convincing for Fox to see that the idea has merit. I was going to let Falco choose the human pilot, since he'll be leading the patrol… but in all honesty, Fox has _already_ chosen someone. We were looking at piloting records and we discussed what we'd learned about pilots when I telepathically interviewed them. There is a pilot among us who flew on a NASA mission about fourteen months ago. At then time I learned of it, I was a little surprised and… it makes sense to utilize that particular pilot." She turned to Miyu and grinned impishly. "Lucky _you_, it's the gentleman calling himself Gambit. I was surprised to learn of his endeavor – flying a space shuttle known as _Endeavour_ on its final mission… Fox was surprised – small world; we actually have a pilot who flew for NASA…" She noted the sparkle in Miyu's eyes and sensed the welling giddiness in the girl's heart. Krystal grinned. "So, yes, hon, you two will be flying together. He'll be the first… and possibly only… human to fly our technology. We're doing this off the cuff in order to show humanity a hint of trust and this will _not_ happened often, if ever again. If he wrecks the Arwing, we're in trouble… so let's not let that happen – just a patrol and nothing more."

Miyu, obviously excited, nodded her head. "He'll be okay, I promise. When is the patrol scheduled?"

"This afternoon. Now, let's finish up here and get ready for food – I'm starved." Krystal shook her head with a grin, still able to sense the lynx's boisterous reaction to the "great news." The petite vixen patted Lynx on her shoulder, passing back the bar of soap. "Miyu… please, don't let this 'thing' get out of control… remember Anne Grey back in Lylat. Just… be responsible, please."

"Just relax." Miyu offered two thumbs up then walked back to her own shower pole, casually tossing the bar of soap up in the air and catching it several times. "I'm lookin' forward to this patrol." She glanced at Fay. "I'm sorry you got switched off of it, though."

The half-poodle half-spaniel gave her best friend a playful shrug. "I'm happy for you; there will be many more patrols, Mimi. Have fun while this one lasts."

* * *

_Flight Deck…_

**"You sure this is a good idea?"** asked Falco.

"Of course I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not. But Krystal can be quite convincing." Fox nodded firmly. "This guy will be fine, though. He's flown a shuttle and he's flown a good amount of Navy fighters, making him the best suited for this patrol. We _really_ need Fay for this other mission, Falco. She's patient and attentive and able to focus on multiple things at once, making her the clear choice to teach these human pilots how to evade and survive against Venom fighters in a live-action simulation."

Lombardi cocked his brows, furrowing them high. "Live action as in… they're going to shoot at her?"

"Yes," said Fox. "The Arwing's shields are far more advanced than the Flea-Class. It can absorb the kinetic energy of the Vulcan cannon round – this means they can shoot at her… if they can catch her… and she can determine when a target has proven itself a victor during a training round. Thing is, they're not just going to test the Vulcan cannon."

"I heard that their Raptor only has about eight to ten seconds worth of ammunition if they go all out."

"You're right," replied McCloud with a nod. "I'm proud of you for doing your homework, man."

"Peh," Falco rolled his eyes. "I don't do that kinda' crap." He glanced around furtively then leaned in and said, "Don't tell anyone." The falcon cleared his throat then said, "Something tells me that you were just generalizing, Fox. How are they _really_ training?"

"Low-frequency burst-fire of that Mobile THEL system mounted beneath the Raptor. They wanna start running tests on a new energy-delivery method… they had people stay up last night tweaking these Raptors to try and get longer, less draining energy usage from that system. They're also playing with various frequencies to best the Venom shielding system."

"Wait, what?" Falco settled into his cockpit and began to strap himself into the cockpit harness. "I smell a Toad."

Fox grinned. "Two of them. Slippy and Beltino rigged the shielding system of the Venom fighter into Fay's Arwing. She'll have her Arwing shield bubble up and, in a wide-spectrum aura, she'll have the Venom ship's shields active. If the Raptor pilots can break through the Venom shield generator, they'll prove successful. The biggest problem after that will be keeping the Venom pilots from shooting down the Raptors. However, Slippy modified each of the Raptors so that the pilots can _manually_ change the energy frequency of the THEL beam until we figure out what works best on the Venom shields. Then they'll be more effective against the next group of Venom ships that are foolish enough to fly in our path."

Falco paused then nodded slowly, obviously impressed. "Not bad. At least now we're getting ready to show some aggression. It's been way too long and I'm ready to see some action. Besides, I heard all about the attack yesterday. Man, I knew those human pilots were capable of taking down one of those pieces of Venomese crap. These alien people just need better ships. Hell, we should give'em better technology then go home – they'll defend themselves."

Fox glared at him. His expression melted into a dubious look. He sighed then decided to avoid the obvious problem of… what if Andross still beat them and turned them against Corneria… McCloud pondered a way to get through to Lombardi's head then smirked. "So, uh, Falco… if we go home to Lylat… there'll be nothing to shoot. At least, while we're here, you've got lizards to lock onto."

"I sure hope so; I've STILL not seen anything in my crosshairs for AGES. I'm telling you, Fox… Even the best friggin' broadsword will rust if it just sits. Why don't you let me head out there and _really_ assess the enemies and their capabilities?"

McCloud sighed again, sitting atop the metallic rolling ladder adjacent to the Arwing's fuselage. "Because, Falco. You'll have a human pilot with you, remember?"

Lombardi lifted his feathery fingers. "Wait… all I want to do is fly out to the planets at the edge of the system. I want to see what the guy is up to… and, of course… if we incur any hostiles… we'll quickly engage them and head straight back here. We'll photograph _everything_ and that way we'll know why Andross has taken several _months_ to do anything more than lift a finger. You _know_ knowledge is power, man."

Fox tightened his jaw and pensively tapped a finger against his lower lip, weighing his options. He placed a paw on the Arwing's hull, rubbing his fingers over the armored plating in thought. Falco goaded softly in the background but Fox ignored it. The vulpine pilot pondered for a moment, recalling Peppy's infamous message, passed on by James McCloud. …Follow his instincts. The fuzzy team leader shook his head with a frown. "I hate when you make sense; I can't believe I'm going to allow you to do this."

The avian's expression brightened. Fox reached into the cockpit and put his paw on Falco's shoulder, saying, "Listen, Lombardi… and I mean this to be very, very clear… If you screw this up, I'll ground you and put you on defense-only status. I mean it…"

"What is it, Fox? Just say your piece, buddy."

McCloud nodded and said, "Do _not_ hunt for trouble. I'll be reviewing your black box. I only want you to engage if they spot you and begin to close on your location. Make it a defense-only engagement, if it has to happen. This pilot has to be debriefed when he returns, because I did not intend for him to be out that far in the first place – I only cleared him to rub a short patrol no further than the Mars orbital track. I'll have Slippy tie in this pilot's hyperdrive controls to Miyu's dashboard so that he doesn't accidently jump out to who-knows-where. And this is only _if_ he even accepts this mission… Furthermore, I want you to use the planets as cover to hide. Photograph everything you can and destroy any-and-all satellites that Andross may be employing. That will cripple their recon abilities. Finally, the _ONLY_ reason I'm allowing you to head out there is because we believe the Venom ships were remote controlled by a subspace relay network. If you can verify that one exists… destroy it completely. Make that your _main_ objective – that way Venom can't continue to send remote controlled ships to Earth from across the system. If you deviate or go on the offensive or start hunting for targets… You're grounded. If you achieve nothing else, you _must_ take down that relay, no matter what. If fighters guard it, fine… only deviate from that task if capital ship bosses guard it. Are we clear?"

Falco held up both of his feathery hands. "Say no more."

"I mean it… I want you to _promise_ me, RIGHT NOW."

The avian reached for his friend, gripping Fox's shoulders. "Do you remember when you helped me pass my finals? I told you that I owe you one life-time favor to get you out of a jam."

"You repaid me," said McCloud, adding, "When I was fighting Andross over Sauria. You came in and provided me with the stock of Nova Bombs I'd need to do the job."

"Yeah, whatever," remarked the bird with a smirk. "You didn't ask for that – I volunteered, douche bag. Anyhow, I _swear_ that I will refrain from hunting down Venom targets. I also _promise_ that, even if I _am_ attacked, I will _not_ go beyond defensive reaction. I won't go near the corebase, I won't let them have a chance to monitor our transmissions or allow them to react to _us_. I wouldn't want them to launch a full assault anyhow because I'd want to save a few enemies for you and Fay. Deal?"

Fox lifted his paw and Falco reached up for it. They clasped their palms together then Fox leaned in, coming shoulder to shoulder with his fast friend. "I trust you, man. If not for me, then do it for the human. He goes by the name 'Gambit' and I hear he's a little bit of a hotshot, like you. Don't let him lose one of our ships… we'll need it against Venom – we're already down one, after all."

"I'll bring back _information_, man. I've gone this long without flipping out and shooting at things… I'm used to the mundane boredom by now; yeah it sucks but I'm smart enough to figure out that we don't have Corneria behind us in this crap. C'mon, haven't I toned it down in the last four months, Fox? I should have earned a little notice for my restraint by now – I can handle it Fox. We're cool, brother. I won't get the dude killed. Let's just rock and roll; I'm ready to fly. When do we take off? Besides, you _know_ the human pilot is going to accept the mission, provided Slippy can give him a quick tour of the controls. Besides, the Arwing practically flies itself. If you were to tie in all the controls to a single video game controller, a ten year old could fly the thing."

"You take off soon, Falco. I've gotta get Slippy to patch in one of the Arwing's navigational controls to Miyu's computer. Just sit tight. I'll have them taxi you out to the elevator now. Just do me a favor and twiddle your thumbs for a few minutes."

Falco grinned and pressed a button. His canopy began to close, forcing Fox to lean away from the fuselage with a smirk. McCloud made an obscene gesture to his friend through the glass only to have it returned. He then descended the metallic ladder and hurried out of the hanger to find Slippy.

* * *

**The inky void of space greeted the trio of Arwings**. The two pilots formed up behind Falco and, at his order, they dialed in the settings so that the fighter's stabilizers folded back into the elongated position. The plasma engines roared in a vibrant blue trail, causing the fighters to climb in speed to an incredible pace. The vibrant moon crossed by and panned to the left. Within ten minutes it was behind them.

"How do you like the Arwing?" asked Miyu.

"Mon Dieu. Never have I ever been in something so fast. We've passed the moon – it would take quite some time in a conventional NASA shuttle, chérie. Also, I appreciate Monsieur Toad taking the time to label these controls in English for me. It's quite an intuitive fighter – it responds easily and is _child-like_ in simplicity to fly."

"Funny, I was just telling Fox the same thing." Falco chuckled over the line. "It's friggin' badass, huh bud? Y'wanna see what this thing can do, man?"

"Oui, how about a product tour, mon capitan." He eased forward on the accelerator handle, as did Miyu and Falco. At full throttle, a distant Jupiter came into view. Mars could be seen as a small dot in the distance off to their starboard. In just minutes, Jupiter's moons began to become visible; the enormous planet enlarged before them. "Sacrebleu, this thing – it really cooks, non? I could only dream of having one of these to fly more often!" He lifted his thumb and held it up. Jupiter was now the exact size of his gloveless thumbnail.

"Let's kick it up a notch, huh gang?" Falco grinned, watching the expression of the human pilot on his holo-bar above his HUD.

Gambit noted the holo-bar pop up above him. He appeared surprised at first. "No gloves, no helmet, no G-forces, no space suit… this technology is beyond Jules Verne, mes amies. I am stunned." Meanwhile, Miyu punched in a command in her computer that caused Gambit's Arwing to show a combination of buttons lighting up on the right-side panel. He watched in awe; coordinates were computated through a terminal monitor on the dash. The stars before him stretched into white pillars. Within a matter of a minute the lengthy white bars shrank back to dots in the sky and, up ahead, Neptune filled the infinite dark expanse. The beautiful marble bluish-purple sphere was unlike anything he'd ever seen up close. "Incredible."

Miyu punched a few keys on her dash and said, "Not oceans; it looks like it's absorbing solar rays and reflecting others, due to the methane in its atmosphere, giving off the blue tint. It's pretty." After a brief pause, she added, "What in the hell…?"

Falco frowned, his facial features contorted into a look of disgust over the holo-bar. "I see it – on two of the satellites – the computer has them named as Triton and Proteus. I'm seeing it – you know what that means, don't you?"

Gambit leaned forward, looking at a readout panel. "Je sacre par Dieu – am I seeing movement and life on the moons of Neptune?"

"Enemy colony," said Miyu with a tone of disgust. "It appears they're mining for metals and other resources. This explains a _lot_. Andross is out here raping minerals and metals in order to build ships to prepare for his takeover. DAMN it! We've got to report this!"

"I agree," said Falco, "But first, I want to hunt down all the artificial satellites between here and Earth on the way home. There's a subspace network set up to help control the Venom ships we saw the other day. We've got to break the line and take out as many links in the chain as possible. Be ready – they may be defended, guys."

"So much the better!" retorted Gambit. "We'll destroy whatever comes our way and send those imbeciles a message!"

A grin tugged at Falco's beak, spreading across it slowly. "…I like this guy, Miyu." To his words, she replied by smiling back at him over the holo-bar. After a moment of pushing buttons, Falco glanced back up at the video display of his two pilots. "Okay, I locked on to the location of two subspace relay probes. There's a third at the edge of the sensor's range and I'm going to plot a trajectory that will take us along the line of them in order to destroy as many as possible on the way back home. I was kinda' hoping to blow up fighters but this will have to do… but don't discount seeing enemies just yet… They could be anywhere out here so keep your guard up. Okay enough with the stupid speeches, we're going to head back now. There are two probes in place between the next planet and Saturn. Try'n keep up!" He came about then punched his throttle wide open. Gambit and Miyu followed in his wake.

Gambit tilted his head, looking at a rear-viewing monitor beneath the sensor scope. He reached towards it, pressing on a flat panel, causing the monitor to zoom inward on the distant metallic core base. "Look at it…" His voice was soft. "That's the 'tenth' planet scientists _thought_ they'd observed about four or five months ago… It's massive, yet it's small and not comparable to a real planet or moon. How… big is it, anyhow?"

"Smaller than Charon," said Miyu, adding, "The satellite around Pluto – the smallest named object added to our computer database for this system. That 'moon' is about seven hundred fifty miles… However, the core base is about four hundred and thirty miles in diameter. It's massive in its own right… about the size of a medium American state, maybe one of the ones on the east coast. It's large enough to house a great deal of fighters and, it's assumable, they'll have a factory for making _more_ fighters. Especially if they really are mining resources."

"Not good," murmured Gambit. "Wait – I see movement on the sensor screen – there appears to be something in proximity of the subspace access point nearest to us."

"Crap, he's right!" exclaimed Falco. "I didn't even _see_ that until now! Let's go, guys! If there are bogies guarding these things… well… they have to be taken out… so whether they're sentries or they're Venom fighters… they have to go, too, because they're witnesses defending the jackpot. Let's shut it all down. The sooner we do, the sooner we can get back to base with the photographs I took of the distant crap going on over Neptune and its moons. The high-power photos …I'm looking at them now… the resolution is pretty good… It's obvious that they've got work colonies, mining the hell out of those two moons. Real obvious. I wanna get back so we can make a plan of action that hopefully includes kicking asses and reasoning with Fox. He can't deny we'll have to strike preemptively _before_ they finished making more ships. Maybe we can do a full-team strike first thing tomorrow."

Miyu smirked. "As much as I would like that, Falco, you _know_ deep down that Fox won't take us out for a full-blown strike that quickly."

"We'll see," said Lombardi. The trio of fighters rushed back, with Saturn and its ice rings beginning to enlarge in the distance. Uranus was nowhere to be seen on the flight path. Up ahead was a deep space satellite, creating a chain of subspace networking information leading back towards Earth. Tiny little dots swarmed around it, Venom fighters that lay in wait for the small squadron.

"Damn – okay, you two… break and attack. Miyu, you're in charge of your friend. I can't be bothered with baby-sitting – we _all_ watch each _other's_ backs, here. I'll lead the strike, you watch over Gambit." He punched the boosters, the gap between their ships began to widen. Falco then added, "Destroy everything then we'll move on to the next waypoint."

Miyu chuckled off handedly. "You heard the man."

Gambit cracked his knuckles then closed his hands carefully around the controls of the loner craft. "Indeed I did, ma chatte. Let's earn his respect then, oui? It is time to go 'all in', as I told you yesterday."

"If you destroy more than me, I'd offer you a kiss but I doubt you're interested," she said with a chuckle. "It makes flirting difficult."

"Who says I wouldn't be interested?" he retorted. "I shall hold you to that kiss if I successfully destroy more bandits than you, and that, chérie, is worth fighting for." He closed his thumb over a switch on the side of the throttle bar and the Arwing began to rush forward on a limited burst of speed. He waited a moment then mashed the button again, coming up behind Falco.

The Venom fighters were Invader II class ships, swarming around the subspace access point buoy. They broke their formation, twelve fighters in all. Gambit gritted his teeth, seeing the numbers. "They outnumber us four to one!"

"Whatever," replied Lombardi. As Gambit looked up, he saw the avian's Arwing come through at a perpendicular angle, cutting through two ships in a matter of seconds. The human's eyes widened somewhat as realization struck – the Arwing was far superior to these middle-of-the-road fighters. Miyu broke hard to port, chasing after an enemy.

Gambit, however, broke to the starboard. "Don't go killing them all," he said to Falco, pushing down on the top of the control stick. "I'm the first human being to take down an alien invader – I want to savior it, Monsieur Lombardi."

"Shaddup. If you ask me, it's cliché for you to even be here. I'd have done this mission by myself if Fox'd have let me. No offense, pal."

Miyu winced with a roll of her eyes. "Just remember our arrangement," said Miyu, opening fire on one of the fighters. "I won't back down if you earn it."

"Then that's just what I'll have to do," he said, releasing the trigger. The charged shot lanced out from beneath the loaner Arwing and curved about to the left. It clipped the engine casing of an Invader-class fighter, forcing the fuselage to push apart – the fighter burst. He began pistoning his thumb into the firing button, spewing small flecks of green into the void, chasing after another fighter. "One down, I'm going to try my luck at another. Your time will soon be up, ma chatte. You'll see."

"You just keep talking," she chuckled. "At this rate, I _should_ be kissing Falco but he and I aren't on the same page."

"Yeah, thanks but no thanks," said the falcon to Miyu's words. "I love killing targets, though …But I wonder how things are going back on Earth?"

* * *

**Fox folded his paws** behind his back, watching as the Raptors swarmed Fay's fighter. He licked his lips then his ears perked, hearing Watson approach. He turned from the bridge windows to face the commander. "Any word on Falco's patrol?"

"Yes." Watson lifted his hands, palm outwards. "I was apparently misinformed about our prior agreement to allowing a human pilot to fly you're your teammates. I'm a little upset about them deviating from the patrol out to the Mars orbital track but… we'll talk about that later on. They've gone as far as Neptune and had something they wanted to transmit to us. However, they've yet to send any attached information stream just yet. We're standing by until we hear from them; needless to say the data packet we received so far said that Falco thinks there is something important going on. He claims it's really big and that he'll send intel back as soon as he can." Watson came alongside of Fox, watching as Fay looped about, evading the Raptor pilots. "Don't you think it was a little hasty to send up one of the American pilots with your friends? I would have preferred _time_ to ask permission of the Government officials handling this situation, first. If something happens to Gambit, it could be serious… as it is, Smiley is so spooked that he wants to quit."

The vulpine creature cut his eyes back towards the windows on the bridge with a frown. "He does realize that his teammates took down one of the Venom fighters, right?"

Watson shook his head, keeping his gaze on the distant swarm of pilots half a mile away. "He said his proximity sensors didn't even warn him. He looked up and saw a glob of energy coming right at him… he pulled his ejection handle and the plane started to explode all around him. He thought he was a goner… then the chute didn't pop because the explosion damaged the ejection seat. The whole damn thing hit the ocean, holding him inside. He was damn lucky the plane broke apart the way it did. All the air in the cockpit made the whole enclosure float, though… The canopy manifold seized – it didn't deploy properly… his seat stayed in the box and the box is what accidentally saved his life. He's telling me that nothing can beat those fighters… and that they took him down in a single shot… he's spooked; it's not good."

"That's not good." Fox frowned. "What are you going to do?"

"He's freaking out, McCloud. He's not ready to fly again… I'm going to send him to a Navy base, have him debriefed then recommend he go home and get some psychiatric help. This stuff is really bothering the kid; he wasn't ready to be the first human being shot down by an alien." Watson sighed. A flash showed up on a monitor near by. The commander grinded his molars together in realization of what the blue light meant. He looked around the bridge, murmuring, "There are more phones on this bridge than I know what to do with." He motioned to a crewmember. "Which receiver is for the blue panel light?"

One of the men pointed to the third in a line of eight receivers. "This one is for the blue light, Commander."

"Thank you, son." Watson took a deep breath, calmly picked up the receiver and waited. After a moment, there was a voice on the other end. The Commander cleared his throat and said, "DC, this is '_Yokosuka-Bound_'. We've got a patrol out beyond Saturn and I've just received a silent alarm notification that… they have been engaged by live enemy targets." Everyone on the bridge, Fox included, stopped what they were doing and turned to Watson in silence.

* * *

A/N: _YAY. I wrote more. I made it all up as I went along, because I've not followed the original storyline in two chapters, now. xD _

_In the original plot, the characters head out to Andross' corebase and are captured and stay there for a little while… and eventually escape. However, I remodeled that storyline arc for "act1" of "Greatest of 3 evils, A Family Affair" and don't want to revisit the exact same thing. I'll occasionally recycle a storyline subplot arc but… I'm not going to completely revisit one so… I'm going to put more emphasis on StarFox and Earth. Also, I initially had no intention of putting a human pilot into an Arwing because it's so cliché (as Falco said, LMAO) and way overdone in other stories of this nature… however, as the storyline developed in this chapter, the situation presented itself and lended to the idea of creating a taboo relationship between Miyu and the human pilot. The question will then become… how will other human pilots (And other StarFox team members) feel about this situation? Well, Krystal is an alien to Lylat but… because she's so very similar to Fox's species… it was accepted fairly well… but being with a human? That's akin to a Cornerian dating a Venom lizard, in a sense… they're totally different and it's taboo… Of course, they have a good deal of resistance to get through and, like the girls told Miyu, earlier… What about Anne Gray? It could get interesting! _

_The characters can't ALWAYS make perfect decisions all the time… this is one of those imperfect decisions and it'll soon manifest itself fully but… for now… it's cute having the Cajun French-speaking pilot flirt with the aristocratic-looking Miyu. I'm going to try and portray the budding relationship as adorably cute as I can, so that you can see things from their perspective and, as a reader, take their side of things. Sorry for the long chapter… Lot of things about to happen. _

_AND! Now we know why Andross has been taking so long throughout the course of this story, as well as why we were seeing those strange headlines in the tabloids and newspapers earlier in this story! _

_Btw, Vulpix Trainer's idea about using humans to help Andross… I thought about it and it makes sense. Anyone else have anything they wanna suggest, add, etc? Any comments you wanna share with me? Can I hear your thoughts and opinions on this story? I'd love to hear some more feedback if you're still reading this story!_

_-Kit_


	8. Chapter 12 And 13

A/N: _Now that I'm doing a different plot line from the original that I wrote back in '94 (Because I used the "captured on corebase" story arc in Act1 Greatest of Three Evils, Family Affair), I decided that this story needs something else for a sub-plot. Originally, being captured on the core base was the plot and dealing with humans was the subplot. We need a fresh subplot! I've started building one over the last few updates – it's time for a new angle on that subplot. And some of you may be surprised at who actually comes up with this idea to misbehave! Not every old person has forgotten how to be young at heart! Also, for those of you who speak French, he's NOT speaking perfect French because he's NOT from France. He's from the Louisiana Bayou (Thus his flight handle, "Gambit".)  
Enjoy!

* * *

_

Chapter -12-  
"Complicated"

**"Awkward,"** said Falco, waving his feathery hand at Miyu and Gambit. He turned away from the two on the hanger deck and headed for the personnel lift. Two marines greeted him. One of them began walking with him while the other waited for Miyu. Lombardi smirked at the second guard and said, "They might be a few minutes, pal. You might as well start yourself a solitaire game." He patted the guy on his shoulder, adding, "Yeah, I think it's gross, too." He followed the first guard onto the lift platform and the double doors slid shut.

In seven minutes flat, Falco found himself whisked up to the bridge. It was his first time there and he found Fox and Krystal looking uncomfortable up at the front. A few crewmembers gawked at him in passing but he ignored them and approached Commander Watson. Fox neared the human and avian and offered a paw. The two Cornerians shook. Lombardi grinned. "I told you I'd bring the dude back in one piece."

"Where is he now?" asked Watson.

"You really don't want to know," said Falco.

Sensing the situation and what Falco saw on the hanger, Krystal covered her muzzle with her palm. "She didn't!"

Lombardi's grin broadened. "She sure did, sister." His gaze flitted back to Watson, hands lifted as if in defense of himself. "Don't ask. Everything is fine – he's on the hanger deck and will be up… whenever. Miyu is 'debriefing' him. Anyhow." He stuffed his feathery fingers into his pockets and shrugged. "He's a good pilot… and apparently knows more than one way to _skin a cat_, or whatever the expression is. But yeah, he handled himself pretty good."

"…Handled himself _well,_" murmured Fox.

"Yeah, that," continued Falco. "Look, you guys need to sit down in a quiet place and start reviewing the stuff on my computer." He glanced around at the bridge crew. "Are these guys allowed to hear what I have to say or…?"

Watson abruptly waved for the group of alien animals to follow him. The marines, Sarge included, fell into step as they walked off the bridge and down to a 'ready room' office. Watson opened the door for everyone except for the soldiers. He stepped in and shut the door behind himself, leaving the marines to guard the hallway. Once in the office, he locked the door and approached the group. "Okay. I'm ready."

Falco shrugged. "Andross has mining colonies on several moons. I'm seeing two on Neptune, two on Saturn and who knows about the other planets. We didn't pass every single one, after all. We did, however, pass Jupiter and I didn't get close enough to the ump-teen bazillion moons of that place to check it out. There's over sixty of those damn things and the electro-magnetic interference coming off that big-ass planet was messing with our long-range scanners. Whatever. Anyhow, now we know why they're taking so long – they're building ships and getting ready for some big crap to go down." He turned to McCloud and Krystal. "We need to hammer these guys right away with an all-out attack to keep them from getting any stronger."

Krystal blinked. "Falco, you can't be serious!"

"Falco!" Fox blinked incredulously. "The GreatFox is damaged and under repairs. Krystal's Arwing amounts to about sixteen small pieces of shrapnel scattered over the Atlantic Coast, Hudson Bay and God knows where else. We can't even use those pieces, they're so small, so we have to rebuild her Arwing completely from scratch using Earth technology; that's the reason we're going to this country, Japan. Remember? We're in no place to mount an offensive and don't have enough Nova Bombs to put a dent in his piloting staff. It would be a war of attrition."

"Damn!" Lombardi balled his hands into fists, arms above his head for a moment. He sighed, dropping them to his sides. "Look, the longer we wait around, the bigger and harder it will be to fight him. We need a plan of action now. Can't we sit down with the Toads and the humans and build a doomsday weapon then fly it out there and get the job done? They'd never expect us to pull that off on the spot."

"Be reasonable," Krystal reminded. "Andross won't be pushed around easily. The aces that we flew against when I was shot down… they were formidable pilots. It's unknown how many capital boss ships Andross has employed. We all know that Andross is notorious for creating defenses above and beyond what is considered normal. Flying out there and 'doing the deed' is suicide."

"Yeah?" Lombardi stuffed his fists back into his pockets. "Then what're our options?"

This time, Watson spoke up. "If they try and attack Earth from across the solar system, based out of a home location only four hundred miles in diameter… they'll have exhausted their resources if we can manage to repel a mere three to five attacks. Mathematically, we can succeed here… and that's provided these attacks amount to approximately five hundred bogies per wave. To suggest he has more than twenty-five hundred fighters is stretching things. Now, our technology alone would prove ineffective. If you never came to our aid, he might pull off a planetary take-over with three thousand fighters and a lot of determined pilots. I would say that he could have won if he knew where to attack and if he used effective means of psychological warfare to scare the citizens on this planet into believing that he was in charge of an entire empire worth of pilots. The fact remains, his 'Death Star' is the size of my thumb and he'd be up against a hundred thousand pilots the first day, the world over. If we can race to figure out how to beat his technology, we become an even match against him."

Krystal placed her paw against Falco's wrist. "You said yourself that the human pilot did a good job. Earth's people would not give in to Andross unless they feared it to be a hopeless situation. The pilot, Smiley, should have gone on that mission to see just how easily Venom fighters can be destroyed. It's truly a shame he's become so paralyzed with fear."

Lombardi tightened his jaw. He sighed through the nostrils of his beak. "Damn. So what happened to the guy?"

Fox closed his eyes. "He was sent home, today. Krystal tried to console him but …he was pretty screwed up in the head. The Navy brought in a lot of good pilots that didn't have anything worth while back at home… apparently the missed one little thing in this guy's profile and it was on his mind when he went down."

Falco eyed his team leader. McCloud shrugged and said, "He's a father and pays something known as 'child support' under the table for his two kids. He doesn't file for these children on the citizen tax payments and, therefore, these children weren't documented very well… apparently this guy had an epiphany while he hurtled towards the ocean."

"You kind of lost me at the tax… filing thing but… go on." Lombardi folded his arms.

"He wanted to be a better father," said Fox.

Krystal continued in her mate's place. "He thought he was about to be robbed of the chance to make his family situation better. He explained that it was about to be his last dying thoughts. He said he made a personal agreement with his faith and beliefs that he would change his life if he didn't die. And… just like that… he survived his hopeless plunge at twenty-two thousand feet. He took it as an omen and now he's being discharged for medical leave."

Falco blinked several times, tilting his head. "Didn't you guys say that when you scanned him telepathically the other day… he turned out to be a massive pervert and regardless that he was trust worthy and whatever… he was still a huge freak?"

Krystal swallowed and frowned. "I spoke with him before his departure. He left while you were on your mission. He knows he should have been crushed and burned and mangled. He knows that he should be dead. It was a life-changing stair-down with death and he vowed to change his ways. Apparently, he knows he's quite the strange person… and he realized that he now has a limited time to change who he is before he dies… and, on that note… wishes for his death to be something natural, like age. Just know that he was beyond freaked out and he'll be haunted by his near-death for quite some time. They sent him home to be evaluated; he'll need therapy."

The avian began pacing. After a moment, he blurted out, "That guy is a pussy. I've been in near-death situations. I've stared down what should have turned into death and I sure-as-hell didn't have any regrets. Sure, the guy has some illegitimate kids and he wants to make things right by'em… I can respect that… but the part about almost dying and wanting to reconcile with the creator? Whatever. We're all put here for one reason or another and he had his place in life. Y'gotta be proud of who you are. If my sole purpose in life is to create more challenge for Fox McCloud," he glanced at his old friend with a grin, "Then I'm doing it to the best of my ability and I'm not going to flip out during a crash just because I'm mad at myself for not being nicer to people. Whatever. He's a pussy – we're all better off without him on our wing. I want kick-ass pilots to fly with. Give me more dudes like Gambit and more chicks like that woman, Revlon. Give me crazy guys who hit the gas when there are enemies, like that guy Wild Bill. Give me guys who go from depressive to excitable when they fly like that guy, Doomsday. Give me a young, dumb kid who shrugs off the crap shower and runs into the fray with guns blazing, like the boy Tailhook. There are a _lot_ of good pilots here. I don't want to fly with dudes who are going to have regrets."

Fox folded his own arms. "Are you done?"

Falco continued his pacing again. "Yeah, that felt good to get out. Oh, and we rocked cloud-after-cloud of Invader II Venom fighters. Give me a Flea-class, at least those things have bite if they hit'cha with their main guns."

"Focus, please," said Krystal in a pleasant-yet-reminding tone. "What else happened on your mission?"

Lombardi glanced up at Watson and his two friends before staring forward before pivoting back around. He stopped pacing and shrugged. "We only encountered enemy fighters at each of the Subspace relay satellites. Not a single one of those ships are going home today. I'd say Andross has about sixty less pilots than he did before. Sixty, man. And that Gambit kid likened the whole situation to a video game. We took down eleven total satellites. Check the black box recorders but we did in about sixty fighters. I took about fifteen pictures and I want to head back out and do a bombing run with Miyu and Fay's bomber Arwing ships. We can clean up the resource mines with a few well-placed…"

Fox lifted a paw. "We can't go wasting ordinance that we'll need against Andross later on. This isn't Lylat – we can't restock our supply."

"Dammit," murmured Lombardi. "I still say we give our technology to Earth and let them defend themselves, but whatever. They have capable pilots."

"Just slow down, son," said Daniel Watson with a grin. "I get all excited when I'm taken aside by Jason Simms and told, by the Admiral himself, that I'm going to take control over the future 'World's Most Powerful Aircraft Carrier' and suddenly I feel invisible. But just one of those Flea-fighter things could have put us on the bottom of the Pacific. Just one. And it wouldn't have broken a sweat. They may not be awesome machines by your standards, but their technology is worlds better. However, the human being's imagination is far more powerful. And, with what we've recovered of their ships, we could easily dream up a weapon capable of turning this Andross fool right back the way he came. There's just one problem, Mister Lombardi… our people aren't very mature just yet. We're getting there but we need more time. Giving us the control of advanced otherworldly technology is very dangerous in our hands. Did you see Admiral Simms giving me a full, ready ship? That's all we need is for an inexperienced Commander taking over a mobile Chernobyl. In the end, we have capable pilots… but let's keep things as they are for now. It's for the best… for everyone."

Krystal leaned up and kissed the side of his beak. She told him, "You did very well getting everyone home safely, today. You got reconnaissance pictures, you completed your primary and secondary mission objectives and you did a very good job today. I'm very proud of you as is Fox. The intel you brought for us is a very good thing, Falco. But this battle with Andross will require time and patience and all we're asking is… since you've waited this long… can you please just continue to have patience and understanding. Please?"

"Fine, whatever." Lombardi sighed. "Can I go, then?"

Fox nodded. "You're dismissed, man. Go and relax yourself on this cruise." He patted the falcon's back and watched as Lombardi let himself out through the office door. Watson relocked it then sighed with a frown.

The Commander quirked a single brow. "He's awfully jovial."

Krystal grinned at Waton's use of sarcasm. "Indeed." She glanced to Daniel Watson's hand on the door lock then lifted her gaze back to his eyes. "Let me out – I'm going to go see what the others are doing."

* * *

**The water crested beautifully at** the arc of the 'V' that trailed behind the carrier. Seated on the back of the flight deck, gazing down the aft section of the ship, Miyu watched her feet dangle over the side, adjacent to Gambit's work boots. The wind rustled through her fur. "So why did you talk to me, yesterday? What made you want to talk to me instead of Fay, Krystal or any of the others?"

He placed his hand atop of her paw, between them, on the edge of the flight deck then interlaced his fingertips between hers. "Typically, I don't judge a book by its cover… but your cover makes me think you'll be a very interesting and entertaining read, ma chérie."

She lifted her free paw, touching the side of her face only to realize that it was a rather girlish gesture. Her paw continued up until her fingertips touched against the single hoop in one of her ears. Her paw dropped back to her knee in an attempt to combat the desire to fidget. "I'm not all that interesting, Gambit." She paused then cut her eyes, offering him a sidelong glance. "You actually find me attractive?"

"Did you want me to say I prefer your mind but close my eyes when I'm near you? Because I told you before – I don't lie to women, chère."

"I've never considered myself attractive and…" she trailed off, glancing back down at the water far below their feet.

"Ma chatte, if a picture is worth a thousand words," he turned to face her directly. "Then, chérie, you must be _War and Peace_." He gave her paw a comforting squeeze. "Trust me, it's a thick book."

Her head slowly swiveled, facing him. "You're so… mysterious."

"I passed Miss Krystal's telepathic interview, didn't I? I can't be that mysterious, chère; I'm just a bit backwards, non? A little frugal, a little frivolous… I'm a perfect gentleman in public, but when alone I have a wild side. I'm an oxymoron, both good and evil all at once. What can I say? My polished halo is supported upon my horns."

"So, wait, respectively speaking, your culture sees a halo as good and horns as evil? You're full of interesting conversation." Her voice lowered, half masked by the ambient sound of the wind rushing across the deck. "…It doesn't hurt that you have a nice figure, either."

"Excusez-moi," he murmured, leaning towards her until the soft flesh of his ear brushed against her muzzle. He could feel the mixture of her warm breath against his skin along with the rush of air across his face. "I didn't quite hear you – say it again, je t'en prie?"

She spoke directly against his ear, her lips brushing the soft folds of skin, her lower lip grazed the lobe. "Say 'please', Gambit."

He didn't move an inch but announced, "S'il te plait, chère. I would know what you said, s'il vous plait to tell me." He already had an idea of what she'd said but he liked being playful with her.

The lynx murred into his ear, speaking over the thirty-plus knots of wind that rushed between their bodies. "I said you're easy on the eyes. You have a nice figure. I might have even said I would enjoy seeing more."

He brought his hand to his chest, jokingly, and said, "Ma chère, you …are a flirt!" He brought his free hand up, knuckles against his forehead with his palm outwards. "I cannot believe you forced me into a kiss in the hanger!"

"That's not flirting," said Miyu. "Those were threats… and when you actually got more kills than me, I knew I had to make good on my threat. In fact… I should make good on it again; pucker up." Miyu drew her paw out from beneath his hand, cupped the side of his face with the backhanded grace of a tennis player, and brought his jaw towards her until their lips met.

* * *

"**This is complicated.** Yeah, I mean it _is_ odd but she's very flirty and, over these last four months, Miyu has had to bottle everything up. I'm surprised she lasted _this_ long," said Fay, resting her chin upon her paws in front of the observation deck railing. "But she said he's _really_ sweet and flirty. Also, she hasn't cared to see a guy in a romantic light in a long time… so this seems a bit healing, if you ask me. Maybe she needed this."

Peppy adjusted his glasses, watching the two small dots out at the edge of the deck. "What about what humans may think of this situation?" He then glanced past Fay at Jackie Harrison.

The agent slumped over the rail, much like Fay. "This is complicated and larger than all three of us. If we forbid it, they'll only want to take this thing further, sooner. If it falls apart, it could be bad in other ways. I don't know what to think." She glanced back towards Fay and Peppy. "I've met Gambit before. I saw him interact with Revlon the other day. He's not like that little creep, Tailhook. He didn't flirt with me or Revlon or any of the female crewmembers. But Krystal scanned him again today at my request… she said she could not detect any lewd or fetish-minded thoughts. He doesn't screw barn animals, he doesn't even care much for porn. Krystal also told me that he's _really_ attracted to Miyu's mind."

Peppy rubbed his chin. "Did you ask her to scan Miyu, too?" To his inquiry, Fay glanced back at Jackie, curious of her next answer.

Harrison nodded. "Actually, I wanted to see both sides of this; it's kinda' cute in its own way, if you look at it in a more… ah… naïve light." She paused for effect then said, "Krystal said that Miyu gave up on men… but something about this guy really has her attention, yet Miyu herself can't figure out what she likes about him, other than the obvious fact that he's being sweet to her and showering her with flirty attention in rebuttal to all of her already naturally flirty advances. It's like… natural magnetism… but in the two most unlikely people possible. In short… she jokingly flirted with him, he flirted back… and she liked it. Now she's crushing on him."

"Crushing on… him?" asked Fay.

"American term," mused Jackie with a shrug. "She has the hots for him… she's enamored with him… and he's quite taken with her in return. Neither seems to know why because they've never gone for the other type before. He's never gone for animals. She's typically not into men. Know what I mean?"

"We get it," mused Peppy. "Perhaps it's just a phase. They want to sate their curiosities with the unknown because the other person is sentient, has a great deal in common personality-wise, and they're experiencing alien infatuation. Who knows how this will end… but eventually, Miyu will be coming home with us and he'll be staying here on Earth. They don't have compatible chromosomes to have offspring, so it's not like they're going to create a dramatic family situation. I'm growing to be an old man… but I think it's just a case of temporary young love. The kind of girl you date in school but neither of you ever plan to marry because you can't see yourself evenly yolked with the other when things come down to it."

Fay shook her head. "Still, I wish I was in her place right now… in a matter of speaking. I just adore romance." Her tail drooped, watching her friend way down on the edge of the flight deck, looking smitten with the human pilot besides her. She squinted and was barely able to make out the human's arm wrapping around Miyu's shoulders, drawing her against his form. The canine's eyes lowered. "This is complicated," Fay said again with a sigh.

* * *

Chapter -13-  
"Culture Shock"

**"Welcome to Yokosuka**," said Watson. He crossed the bridge to the entire group of aliens, minus Slippy. Beltino's son was down in the lower levels, working on Fay's Arwing – the boy's father adjusted his glasses then placed his hands behind his back. He was getting more stares from crewmembers than everyone else. He listened to Daniel Watson speak for another moment then everyone was dismissed. As the group left together, Beltino came alongside of Miyu Lynx and, quietly, asked, "Is it true? Did you sleep with a human? I was curious to study the pair bonding dynamics of…"

Miyu hip-bumped Beltino into the next adjacent hallway so that everyone passed by. She turned to the amphaboid, lifting a paw to gesture their escort marines to back off. In a quiet voice, she said, "We only kissed. I need to know – who is talking about me behind my back and are you guys judging me over this?"

Beltino quickly lifted his hands in protest. "No, no my dear, that's not it at all." He removed his glasses and began to clean them with the end of his ascot. "Miyu, I'm personally fascinated by the prospect of it… from the view of a scientist, of course. Fay is jealous that you're happy but she's also quite happy _for_ you. Falco finds it weird but could give less of a crap. Peppy is too mature to judge like a school boy. Fox is nervous that this could blow up in your face or that the human pilots may react harshly towards Gambit… that's is name, isn't it?"

She sighed, her ears lying back. "…Yes. That's him." She cut her eyes to the right for a moment and asked, "Why doesn't this bother you?"

"I know a few Aquias amphibians who dated Cornerians. The age-old 'skins' dating the 'furs'. It is what it is, right? It was all the rage to be different and date a Cornerian back in my day? In fact, Slippy's mother came to Corneria because of a furred man – a pilot. They broke up and she happened to be on base when I ran into her, after my shift in the test lab. Back then, Andross was my boss – how's that for ironic? Oh, it gets worse."

"…It does?" She blinked – his ploy worked and she was distracted long enough for her mood to be changed by changing the subject.

"Yes, dear Miyu, it's because of Andross that Slippy was born. You see, Doctor Oikonny was not the kind of supervisor to let people off early. However, he had a meeting to attend and asked me to leave twelve minutes early that day. It's because of that perfectly precise timing… that I ran into Slippy's mother as she was on her way off base for the very last time… or so she thought it would be her last time. Had we not met at that moment, we would never have crossed paths and Slippy would never have been born. Funny how things work, isn't it?"

"Yeah." She grew quiet. "Sounds like fate."

Beltino dared to tred back into dangerous waters. He patted her on the face and put his glasses on, saying, "Perhaps it was fate for you to be here. Perhaps it was fate for your newfound pilot boy to be assigned to this carrier. Perhaps things are just meant to be, even if they don't last. It was meant to be for Slippy's mother to date a Cornerian for a few months… if she didn't, she would have never been on that planet in the first place, so I wouldn't have met her. I would have been off work early and gone home. However, that pilot was a stepping stone in her life and it made things happen the way they played out for a reason. Now, as a scientist, I have to sit here and argue which is realistic – fate or free will… but I can't help but wonder if our lives are a mixture of both. And certain things are just… bound to happen. Whether or not this new 'thing' you've got going on actually works out… it doesn't matter… because right now everything that happens is meant to be. Go and enjoy it."

"Y'think so?" She drew her lower lip between her teeth. "What next?"

Beltino looked around furtively then leaned in, realizing he was suddenly her best friend in the situation. "If I was your age, I would go ashore with him and see Japan."

Miyu's eyes widened. "But what if the civilian locals freak out?"

"Everyone has seen the news," said the frog with a playful grin. "I heard the locals of this country are fantastically accepting of things out of the ordinary. I heard that this would be the only country where you could get away with it without being hated. Your translator is designed to work for Japanese people. Gambit's too. Go on, take a walk – go on a date."

She appeared giddy but kept a tight hold on herself. "But what about Fox and Commander Watson?"

"It's easier to ask forgiveness than it is to ask permission, Miyu. You're _supposed_ to be the trouble maker. They expect this sort of thing from you and, yet, you've not done anything bad in four months. I'm positive that they'll allow you this one little mistake, so long as you promise never to let it happen, ever again. Go, be young and enjoy yourself. Besides, it'll prove to the world that we're peaceful. Go on. I'll distract your escort guard by asking for them both to come help me move a piece of equipment. Find Gambit and make your move, just don't get into any major trouble or the jig is up and you'll both be grounded."

She suddenly wrapped her arms around the amphibian and kissed the side of his face firmly. "You're the best!" She headed off down the hall away from the main corridor and bridge, where the two marines were waiting.

Beltino came back out to the intersection and addressed both his escort as well as Miyu's soldier. "I've asked Miyu to wait for me in the ready-room office for later. I'll need both of you young men to help me carry something in my laboratory." He glanced at a chronometer on his arm, adding, "My, my… it's practically shift change… if you could both hurry, I really need help moving this gear before you're off for the remainder of the afternoon! Come with me!" He reached for both of their wrists and led them away from the direction Miyu went.

* * *

**Miyu drew back her blue **Naval-issue hoodie. Her ears lifted up and a grin spread across her maw. "That was _awesome_." She glanced over her shoulder at the large carrier in the distance. Up ahead, Yokosuka stretched out before them. "I heard we should visit Tokyo. When do you have to be back to the ship?"

Gambit grinned back. "I'm not scheduled to fly until the day after tomorrow. We have to be back by tomorrow at ten in the morning, and we leave port by eleven. Tokyo is due north and a short ride by train."

Miyu glanced at him then reached for his hand. "Are you suggesting we stay out all night?"

"I have money," he told her. "I know how to access it, even without my credentials. If you want, we can stay somewhere fun tonight. Ever had a hot tub in your hotel room? We don't have to, I'm just saying it's an option, chère." He closed his hand around her velvet-padded palm, rubbing his thumb through the silky fur along her knuckles.

She lifted her eyes to him. "Gambit, a hotel room? This is all moving rather fast – I mean, you should really make sure the hotel room is affordable so we have enough money for contraceptives." She crossed her eyes jokingly and stuck her tongue out playfully. "But you have to treat me to dinner."

"Really, ma chatte, you like to see a man work, don't you? I have to kill more fighters to earn my kiss… I have to buy dinner to earn your company tonight… You'd better be having fun when you're with me, else I'm taking you right back to your girlfriend with gift-wrap. I refuse to spend time with a lady if she's not having fun the _whole_ time."

"So let's go, already! Fun awaits!" She reached her free paw into her pocket and withdrew a Cornerian pocket camera and switched it on. "If I'm going to get my ass chewed out for what I'm about to do… we'd better make tonight worth while, right?"

"I agree whole heartedly," he said with a grin. "I even have my excuse ready for Commander Watson. I'll say you were sneaking off whether or not I went with you… and that I went with you in order to make sure you were protected and would be able to find your way back to the ship. It's not a strong defense but it's going to be that extra straw, which keeps me from getting court marshaled."

"I heard that term means 'demotion'. Sounds like _my_ world's military punishment. Heh. If all they're going to do is pay you less money, you're getting off easy."

"Am I? Money is a good thing on this world."

Miyu offered a vibrant Cheshire grin. "You can sell your story to any talk show across the planet… you were in a relationship with an alien. You'll be able to write a book about it and it'll be turned into a cinema. Who do you think will play the part of _me_?"

Gambit gave her paw a squeeze and led her towards the train station up ahead. "You'll be CGI, chère; let's go! Follow me! Pull your hood on until we're in Tokyo, so that no one reports your presence back to the US Military! C'mon!"

* * *

_Two hours later…_

**The sun settled behind a row of skyscrapers**. The neon-illuminated city was, to Miyu, glitzier than even the most commercial downtown section of Corneria Capital. The streets of the Shinjuku section were well illuminated and the buildings were beautiful. Tiny squares dotted across the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building as the couple continued through the street. "_That_ is city hall?" she murmured as they headed further away from the Shinjuku commuter station.

The dazzling neon signs for Subaru, Citizen, JCB, FANCL, and hundreds upon hundreds of other brand names filled the sky around them. The last remnants of the sun's orange glow sparkled on the distant western peak of Mount Fuji, surrounded by pink and orange clouds with purple bellies. Miyu's eyes reflected the intensely beautiful image and she couldn't help but stop and look.

A young girl ran by them, taking a photograph of Gambit and Miyu. He approached her from behind and gently eased his arms around her waist, looking over her shoulder at the fairytale scene stretched out before them. Behind them, several bystanders had gathered to point out the upstanding feline with the bobbed ears. However, Miyu casually eased her paw into her pocket and withdrew her Cornerian-made digital camera. She lifted it and took a snapshot. She then turned towards Gambit, took another snapshot then she extended her arm, turned the camera inwards towards them… and kissed him. A flash illuminated them for an instant, capturing the memory of the shared lip lock on the data chip. On a walkway above them, tittering teenagers snapped shots. Their camera flashes sparkled like distant stars around the couple.

Miyu broke the kiss and grinned at Gambit. "Does everyone own a camera in Japan?"

"Actually, amour, _everyone_ in Tokyo owns a digital camera. It's a city… no, a _nation_ of shutterbugs. It's probably not the best country to visit if you wanted to pass through undetected. They even put digital cameras into their favorite hand-held videogame devices. Then again, if you're trying to send out a message to the world… this is the place to be seen, chère."

Her lips were but an inch from his. "You're about to be hated by millions."

He grinned in reply. "They're just jealous." He then kissed her back. Keeping one hand at her lower back, he guided his body forward, dipping her right there on the corner of the intersection for all to see. Again, the cameras up on the overpass twinkled like white blaster fire. A curious, courageous little girl came up to the couple and touched Miyu's wrist just to feel her fur. Miyu paid her no mind, allowing her body to be arched back in such a way. Her heart was racing and her mind was swirling with emotion. She'd not felt this way about a male, let alone about _anyone_ in a very long time.

One of her paws slide up through the back of his hair, cupping firmly behind his head. She felt Gambit's strong arms draw her body to his as he stood up straight again and she brought both of her paws to his chest. Her ears flickered from a sound that came from all around them, growing in volume. Miyu's eyes widened in realization of what she was hearing…

_Applause_. It was followed by cheering and more clapping. She looked around then murmured softly to Gambit, just loud enough for him to hear her. "Apparently, we have their blessing."

He grinned. "I thought the Japanese were reverently silent if they approved of something. I guess applause is still okay for public praise." He peered over her shoulder and nudged her gently with a chuckle. "Look behind you, chérie; you have a fan."

Miyu turned around, facing young children, somewhere between the ages of eleven and thirteen. They quickly offered Miyu a bouquet of flowers and she drew the fragrant blossoming plants into her arm. Two of the children bowed quickly, the rest of them waved before backing off while another, braver little boy, reached out and touched the backside of Miyu's paw. He appeared absolutely delighted by the soft, tactile sensation of her fur.

"I like this city," she told him. The lynx pressed herself into his embrace, her back against his chest. "If Fox and Krystal knew how open-hearted these people were… I just… I wish I was ignorant enough to believe the whole planet would receive us this way."

"Oui, chaton, the Japanese are an open-hearted people."

"They're adorable," she said as another group of young teens approached with what appeared to be a wreath. "I'm getting showered here and I don't want to refuse their … uh… gifts," she said. "What are _these_?" she asked, giving the flowers a light shake in gesture to them.

"Oh, chère, you're putting me on the spot here." He reached around her torso, touching the freshly-picked park flowers. "Ah, Daffodil… means, ah, respect and… these fluffy-ish ones… the Chrysanthemums mean… ah, truth, I do believe. Hibiscus, is… gentleness or something akin to such… The Jasmine on the side… I'm pretty sure tha's friendship… The Irises are for good tidings, ah… geeze chère, you're really racking my memory here… the white poppies here on the side mean, uh, either rejoicing or success, I forget which the white poppies are… and then all the ones in the center… the ones you've got'cher nose buried in, chère, those are pink roses. I think they mean trust, happiness and confidence. Acceptance, y'know?"

She lifted her head until her nose touched the bottom of his jaw line. She spoke softly against his neck. "You're making all this up."

"I would _never_…"

She finished his sentence, having heard it several times by now, "…lie to a woman; yes, yes, I know. I've heard. How do you know all of this stuff and their meanings?"

"It's _my_ planet," he joked, adding, "I was stationed in Japan for a while. I know a little bit about the hana kotoba because I'm a hopeless romantic, ange, it comes with knowing the world's most famous language and drinking the most tasteful wines. Speaking of wine… you should try something called sake. Hitohada sake. Let's get a tokkuri, chère, and we'll polish it off in our room." He placed his palm upon her washboard stomach, caressing gently along her shirt, just to the left of her naval. "Do you know what 'alcohol' is, yet?"

Miyu pushed her face into his neck then dropped her head, looking forward at all the people gathering across the street. "Yes, we discovered it shortly after being moved to The Ranch in America. It takes some time to get used to the taste but it's not too unlike some of the stuff we ferment on Corneria. Fay is a total lightweight but I'm not _too_ bad. At least I don't think I am. We should say hello to a few of these people then leave for some privacy."

Gambit's lips brushed against her ears. She kept her translator in her right one and so he whispered into her left ear. "Say, 'Konichiwa', smile and nod and we'll go. Also, say domo arigato to the children across the way, for the flowers. It means 'thank you' and then wave and smile and be as boisterous and lively as possible – they really respond well to that, here."

"Here we go," she murmured, rubbing her paws together.

* * *

_An hour later…_

"**Say it slower**, _Nihonshu_," Gambit said in a relaxed tone. "It's the Japanese word for the sake you're drinking. It's made from something we call 'rice'." His once gritty dialect was now creamier in tone and he sounded somewhat musical when he spoke.

Miyu paused and listened to him speak then said, "Say it again."

"Nihonshu," he told her.

She murred with a slight grin. "You have a dreamy, smooth voice. It's sweeter than I remember."

A grin tugged at the corner of the human pilot's mouth. "Do you feel a little numb in your cheeks?"

Miyu brought a paw to the side of her face and poked gently then nodded. "It's fuzzy and warm feeling, like… gently touching a board full of pins and needles against my cheek. Yes, it's numb – why?"

"You're drunk, mon ange." His grin widened and the Cajun shook his head slowly. "You're quite drunk. What I mean to say by that word… is that you're no longer sober, chère. Perhaps you would like the last cup of sake from the bottle?" He poured it for her.

She took it with a loose bob of the head then quickly drank the lukewarm liquid. "What were you saying, earlier, about this hot tub business? The Japanese have bedrooms in their hotels… with bathtubs in the middle of the living area?"

He couldn't help but chuckle. He stood up and walked across the room then took hold of a vinyl top of what looked like a round sofa. He drew it away from the base and, to her delight, there was a 'bath tub' bubbling with hot water in the middle of the living room. "It's called a hot tub. It has little jets inside to push the water out and create a current. The fancy word for this is… Jacuzzi."

She began to approach the tub but he stopped her. "Wait, amour… what clothes have you to wear tomorrow?"

"These," she admitted, tugging at her shirt.

"Don't get them wet then." He tilted his head. "Keep them dry." He offered her a polite smile and she nodded in return with a drunken bob of her head.

"This was a devious ploy," she murmured. Her paws went to the hem of her shirt and she removed it without so much as flinching. "But you're clever and I like that." Her pants came next, followed by undergarments. They were left on the nearby vinyl sofa top that was put aside near the kitchenette. Fully nude, Miyu stepped into the water then squealed with absolute delight at how warm the water felt against her leg. She sank down into the Jacuzzi and snuggled up by one of the underwater jets.

Gambit grinned, watching her for a moment. She finally lifted her head to him and glared. "You'd better get your furless ass in here with me. I mean it."

"I'm just admiring… several more chapters were just added to my favorite book… _you_." He began to undress, placing his clothes on a nearby coffee table. He folded his pants and his shirt, keeping them together. He then removed his undergarment and placed them atop of his folded pants and turned towards her.

Miyu's eyes went wild, drinking in every inch of his form. "My God… that's hot." Her gaze lifted then abruptly lowered, as if unable to look away. "Get in here _now_." She lifted a paw from the liquid warmth, reaching for him.

He stepped into the tub and lowered himself to his shoulders. Miyu moved across and settled into his lap, placing her face against his upper chest, just beneath his jaw line. The human pilot opened his mouth to speak but decided better on it and said nothing at all.

"This is nice," she murmured softly.

"Oui, ma chérie – it's parfaite. But only because you're here to enjoy it with me, m' chatte." He reached a hand out to the control panel and pressed his finger in on the automated jet controls. The water began to bubble up around them, causing her to become giddy again, massaged by the mechanical jets while curled up in his arms and lap. He wasn't quite sure through the sensation of the powerfully circulated water… but he was fairly sure he could feel her _purring_ in his embrace.

* * *

A/N: _Okay, that was quick huh? Wshew. I was just in the mood to write this. NO, I won't have the repercussions involve these two in having to split up. If either the humans or Cornerian side tried to enforce it… well they would be afraid of insulting the other party, LOL. So… any Miyu X Gambit fans? xD I need to come up with a nice Cajun-sounding first name for him… that way we can start using it. Also, the next chapter will include dog fighting scenes and both Miyu and her new beau getting into trouble the next day. Aren't they kinda' cute together, though? XD_

_-me_


	9. Chapter 14 And 15

A/N: _This story has been fun to write as of late! Yay!

* * *

_

Chapter -14-  
"Red Tape – Green Tape"

**Jules ran his fingertips over the Braille **beneath the elevator buttons. "This is for the blind people who read the bumps with their fingers. Any other questions?" He let her look over it closely; she glanced back up at him and shook her head. When the elevator opened he drew her into it playfully pulling her into his arms. "Did I ever tell you I know how to read Braille with my tongue, chère?"

She sank into his embrace, palms against his chest. "You'll have to show me on our next secret outing." After a brief moment, the doors opened and they walked into the lobby. Miyu had her hoodie up, covering her face and ears. She walked close to him with her paws in her pockets. However, once they were in full sunlight, it was impossible to cover her face.

As if on cue, people began cheering. Miyu looked up at Gambit then, with a shrug, she drew back the hood. "Okay, so maybe the outing wasn't so secret after all." To her surprise, people in passing turned to shake Gambit's hand firmly. Several passing females giggled, seeing Miyu come from the hotel's front doors. She turned to Jules and asked, "What's going on?"

He shook a few more hands then moved through the crowd of people and picked up the morning newspaper. He turned to her, showing her the front page. The photograph depicted Miyu in his embrace, her back to his chest, while receiving flowers from the children. "Ma chatte, you're a celebrity! A media sensation… and we're on the front page at that! I wonder just how big this situation is? Obviously the ship would know by now. We should probably head back, tres vite."

The crowd began to follow but the people gave the couple plenty of room. Dozens upon dozens of people took photographs of Miyu and Gambit walking together. She shrugged and reached for his hand. "If we're going to create a stir, might as well give'em something to talk about." She ran her thumb over his knuckles.

In reply, he brought her paw to his lips and kissed it. Then, with his free hand, he waved to people in passing. They walked to the train station with everyone following. He moved close to her, placing his arm around her shoulders. He whispered into her ear, "Did you dream sweetly, mon ange?"

She murmured back, "Jules, you gave me the most gorgeous sleep. I woke up this morning feeling like a new woman. You don't think we rushed things, do you?"

"Non, not at all. Who knows how long we shall have together before this war ends 'et' you go home. I'll never regret a single moment of what happened last night. And, if I'm lucky, it will happen at _least_ 'un' more time."

"Do you think we'll be in trouble when we get back?" she asked.

"Why would they punish us?" His hand slid down to her lower back. "We're ambassadors, now." He offered her a flirty grin. "Chérie, in all honesty, I started out flirting with you just to amuse myself… but once I saw what a sharp 'et' cunning mind you have… locked away behind those big blue eyes… mon Dieu, I _had_ to know you better. Also, last night surprised me, amour; it was quite natural, actually… being with you, I felt like I was à l'aise – like I was… ah… maison." He leaned in closer and whispered, "Being _with_ you, chérie, I felt… I felt like I was _home_."

She pressed into him, laying her head on his shoulder. More cameras twinkled around them. "Thank you, Jules. You relax me. So, is this the love-at-first-sight that humans talk about in their fiction books? We've both thrown our inhibitions into the wind for this. I mean, I'd all but given up on men then… you come along."

"Oui and I'm sure to be judged by my peers. Surely you understand the connotations of a relationship with what many see as an animal. But what they will fail to comprehend, at least at first, is that you're sentient and clean and you dress fashionably and kiss normally and, honestly, I would love to stay just one more day in that hotel with you. I really would. But…"

"But," she goaded him to continue.

He grinned at her. "But… We've made the front page. Something tells me that this is about to become bigger than the both of us." He kissed the side of her face, ignoring the Japanese media photographers, the shutterbug teens and children and the rest of the crowd that surrounded them.

"I feel important having this large entourage following us. Japan is fantastic!"

He grinned again. "I told you. You're a celebrity, now, sweet chérie. In consideration of our differences, y'have to admit… we make an adorably cute couple." He watched as someone stepped aside, as though allowing him to cross at an intersection by gesturing with their hands and a half-bow. He nods to them respectfully. "Merci." The couple continued for the train station. "People even step aside to let us by; it's a whole 'nother world in this country." At the gates, everyone crowded around the entrance but remained there as Miyu and Jules stepped through the receiving area. By this time, Gambit and Miyu had autographed six newspapers, posed with two families for a snapshot and for another, shaking hands with someone. They now made their way to the ticket booth. Once the lady at the line saw and recognized them, she squealed in delight and let them through without paying a fare. The pair boarded the train and quickly sat down so as not to draw even more attention. He whispered to her. "Once we arrive, wear your hood, eh? I know it doesn't do much in the middle of the afternoon, but let's be respectful to the landlord, so to speak. The Navy, I mean. Their house, their rules. We'll just board the ship quietly and go about our business like nothing's wrong. Being pleasant and cordial at this point seems like it's the best idea, n'est-ce pas?"

"Nes… pah?" she looked at him for a moment but then figured out the term based on the way he used it. "Yes, let's not draw too much attention to ourselves upon our return. I'm going to find Fay and you should find a casual activity so you can look inconspicuous."

"News travels fast, no matter how big the ship is – I'll be in Watson's office faster than you can kill a bowl of good gumbo. It is what it is, as the saying goes." He placed his thumb against her lower lip, curling his fingers beneath her softly-furred chin. "But I wouldn't change a thing, ma chatte."

Miyu grinned and pushed her paws into the large pocket on the front of the hoodie. It was connected all the way through so that she could fold her paws together to try and contain her nervous energy.

* * *

_Two hours later…_

**Fay took the fur cleanser solution from Miyu** and stepped back into the shower spray. "That sounds dreamy. So he was gentle the _whole_ time?"

Miyu shrugged somewhat. "Jules ran his hands up through my fur on the backside of my head while kissing me and he laid me down slow. The bed was far more comfortable than the officer's bunks on this ship. It was luxurious. He placed little kisses down my jaw, over my neck and collarbone. He was being so gentle and tender."

"That's really sweet," said Fay with an acknowledging nod. "Is that what humans are like the whole time, or…?"

"Well," Miyu murmured, a grin broadening on her muzzle. "Before long, I whispered into his ear, '_you won't break me'_ and that's when he took both of my arms by the wrist. He lifted them above my head and pinned them, crisscrossed into the pillows with his left hand."

The poodle-mixed-spaniel squealed in delight. "That's _hot_! God, I'm so jealous – I can't even put it into words the right way. What happened next?!"

"I arched my back a bit and while his left hand held my paws above my head, his right one moved down over my..."

A third voice filled the shower hall, startling both Cornerian females. "…THAT will be _quite_ enough of that!" They both turned to see Krystal fully dressed with her arms folded. Tucked into her left paw was one of the newspapers that Gambit showed to Miyu back in Tokyo. The blue vixen wore a form-fitting shirt, making it visually obvious that she wore a compression girdle on her lower torso to help keep pressure on the wound of her stomach and lower back. "Miyu, rinse off and get dressed. You're coming with me."

Fay winced and, in the softest voice possible, uttered the word, "…Busted."

The feline said nothing. She turned her back to the spigot and the bubbly solution ran down her back. She then pivoted to her side, facing towards Krystal with her eyes shut. The soapy film ran down her body; she lifted her legs one at a time to rinse off the fur of her thighs and calves then reached for the hot and cold handles. The cascade of water disappeared. Miyu nabbed the nearby bath towel hanging from a hook. "So…"

Krystal approached one of the toiletry baskets beneath an unused showering pole and placed the folded newspaper into it. "Fay, look at the photograph on the front when you're finished. Don't touch it while you're wet, though. This 'newspaper' is how most humans still print their media articles and paper comes apart when it's wet. This is one you may want to keep." She turned about and walked away. Her human-made shoes were of Earthly fashion. The high heels clicked sharply on the tiled floor, her skirt swayed with the slight motion of her hips. The petite blue vixen hooked her paw beneath Miyu's bicep and led her out of the shower hall and into the locker room. "It's as though you did everything you could to try and get Gambit into a serious situation. What's gotten into you, pilot? You're a trained Cornerian military officer. I saw the scene from last night in your mind – that was behavior unbecoming of an officer, Miyu Lynx."

The feline was led to a locker with her clothing. She finished towel-drying her fur then tossed it over a wooden bench bolted into the tiled floor. She recalled what Jules told her he would use as his excuse and said, "He went with me because I'd made up my mind to go with or without someone and, if you didn't already know, Gambit wanted to ensure I wasn't going to have any trouble. However, I had no intentions of getting him into anything he couldn't handle." She grabbed her translator earpiece and clipped it to her ear then gave it a tap to make sure it was secure.

"Quite selfish – you should be thinking of those you care about. I sense you care about him a great deal." Krystal shook her head with a sigh.

Miyu continued to dress. She feigned a weak grin, ready for severe punishment. "So I guess Commander Watson is angry that Jules and I went out for the night."

Again, the lithe blue vixen sighed. "You're on a first name basis with him? Miyu, sweetheart, you _know_ the rules about that."

The short-tailed cat finished with her undergarment and reached for a shirt with sharp-ironed creases in the fabric. "Okay, you're right and I'm sorry… Either way, neither of us came up with the idea. I know that doesn't excuse my actions because I could have simply said 'no' but I know you're telepathic and I know you'll find everything out once you read my mind. So… just between us girls… please don't rat him out. He just… told me to act my age and have some fun."

Krystal sensed who was behind the grand idea and placed a paw over her muzzle. "Oh dear." A brief pause then she ran her right paw back through her hair. "This is complicated. Okay, so you took his advice; you acted your age and you had 'fun'. What have you to say for yourself and your personal objectives?"

Lynx drew the legs of the ironed pants on, tucked her shirt in then fastened the front of the uniform slacks. She grinned at Krystal and, in a semi-cocky tone, said, "Mission accomplished: I had fun. I know I screwed up so I'm ready to pay the consequences. Take me to your leader."

A roll of the eyes was the reply offered to Miyu. Krystal opened the locker room door and gestured to two female marines and a male. Miyu passed by and stepped into the hallway. She nodded to her female escort then to Krystal's male escort and offered a wave to Fay's guard who stepped into the locker room to sit down on the bench and wait for her 'alien'. Meanwhile, Krystal and Miyu headed down the hall in the silent company of their escorts.

Feeling Miyu's nervousness building, Krystal placed a calming paw on the pilot's shoulder. "I'm not upset. Just… don't do it again, please." She and her male guard stopped in the middle of the hallway. "Fox and Daniel Watson are waiting for you both. I'm on my way down to see Slippy and Beltino so I can telepathically scan the incoming science team that boarded this morning. Those boys will be flying back to the GreatFox in a few hours." A brief pause then she said, "You two make a rather sweet couple. But in my opinion, you're both rushing into things rather quickly. Please try to be more responsible about this situation." She lifted her paw and gently patted Miyu's muzzle. "Cheer up. It's not like we're sending you back to Lylat or something. I'm just asking that you display better judgment in the future. Now, if you'll pardon me."

Krystal walked away with her guard. She drew a communicator from where she'd had it pinned beneath her hair and flipped it open. As she and her guard continued down the hallway, Miyu could see the other woman thumbing buttons on the front panel then, just before they turned at an intersection, Krystal brought the small device to her ear.

Lynx turned back to the lady at her side and said, "Okay. I know it's time to face the music. I hope I didn't get _you_ into any trouble for not being able to find me this morning… or whatever."

The guard shook her head. "No, they already knew when your evening guard couldn't find you last night. Thanks to your little stroll through Tokyo things have changed. It's not my place to explain, Miss Miyu. Please, just follow me."

"Oh boy." Her eyes fell back to the floor and she nodded to the marine. "Okay, lead the way. This is _so_ going to suck." She recalled her debriefing session with General Pepper about five months ago. Miyu remembered getting grounded from her fighter and remembered being depressed over it for the next few weeks. Her thoughts turned to worry for Gambit.

They ascended two decks then the female guard reached for the doorknob. She whispered to Miyu, "Good luck," then opened it. Miyu stepped in. The woman shut the door behind them and waited in the hallway.

Inside, Fox and Daniel Watson stood side by side. Fox had a communicator to his ear. "Really? You're just _full_ of shocking news today, Krystal. Okay, well… I've already received his blessing on your idea. They sent for the pilot. Speaking of pilots, Miyu has arrived and it's best not to keep her waiting. Thanks. …Love you, too." He appeared to blush, his voice growing lower at the end. He then deactivated the communicator and stowed it into his pocket. His voice changed tone and he looked towards Miyu. "All right, you're here… we can get started."

Watson sat down at a small round table and Fox sat besides him. Miyu began to approach but Fox lifted a paw. "Stay standing, please. This won't take terribly long."

The human naval commander added, "Miss Lynx, I've recently learned that yesterday's behavior is something common-place for you. Gambit, however, has always been a consummate professional. He's flown in missions I can't discuss and he's always finished his mission objectives ahead of schedule with gusto. I spoke with him on his return and he assured me that you had plans to leave the ship regardless… and so he went with you in order to ensure your safety, understanding such bullheadedness to a degree. And even though his record is flawless and his modest, professional non-cavalier attitude seems to speak volumes about him… I _don't_ believe him. Do you know why?"

Miyu didn't blink, breathe, speak or move.

Watson continued. "It's because I've heard the communications chatter between you two during your last mission together. It's because I heard you kissed him on the hanger deck then sat out on the back of the flight deck for two hours, getting rather friendly and comfortable with one another… you _know_ the crew isn't allowed to see you in person. You _know_ you're not allowed up on the flight deck without your escort. You _know_ that you're under government care and, therefore, government restriction! You snuck off when Mister Beltino Toad asked for your guard to help him. I'm at a loss for words, because even though you _knew_ you weren't allowed to be public on this very ship… you decided to go _public_ in the world's most _populous area_! A city of over thirty-six _million_ people in the major metropolitan area, alone. It's not bad enough that you can't allow nine hundred people to see you… so what do you do? You go out into a megalopolis and walk around talking to children for everyone to see!" He drew a newspaper out from beneath the table and placed it down in front of her. "Front page! Did you know that Japan is fourteen _hours_ ahead of Washington DC? That's a _lot_ of time, Miss Lynx!

"Japan is ahead of almost everyone, Miss Lynx, so your jaunty little walk through Tokyo is now _world wide news_! That photograph," he brought his hand down on the picture, jabbing his finger over the inked print of Miyu in Gambit's embrace, her back to his chest, while receiving a bouquet of flowers from children between the ages of eleven and thirteen. The angle and the expression on everyone's faces appeared perfect. Secretly, Miyu decided she wanted a copy of it for herself. Watson continued with his lecture. "…Is now the world's most circulated front page image! It's on the front of _several_ _hundred_ newspapers around the world! It's on the front of the New York Times, the Washington Post, USA Today; it's on the front page in Paris and Lyon, it's on the front page in London, Madrid, Moscow, Tokyo, Perth, Glasgow, Venice, Rome, Vancouver… shall I continue?! What I'm trying to tell you is that your little stunt has reached the attention of _billions_ of people, all across the globe. Did you _think_ before you acted!?"

"Sir, no sir; I was being compulsive and selfish. I acted on my instincts." She remained stoic, having done this before with General Pepper and two other times with senior officers. She considered herself a pro by this point.

The commander's voice softened somewhat. "What if you'd been shot?" he asked. "What if you were attacked and Gambit was killed? The fact that you snuck out was bad enough… the fact that you walked around with that hoodie down was adding insult to injury and is the reason why everything went public so quickly. The whole world now knows that you were looking right cozy in the arms of a human in downtown Tokyo, Japan! It's _not_ acceptable behavior! There. I've said my part." He turned to Fox. Miyu didn't move, keeping a fifty-yard stare through both men.

McCloud stood up slowly, picked up the newspaper and looked it over for a moment then tossed it back on the table. He couldn't read the fancy Japanese scrawl but the photograph was more than enough. He began pacing in front of her, his paw at his muzzle, his other paw balled into a fist at the small of his back. He made four silent rounds, pondering how to start his next sentence.

Finally, Fox stopped and turned directly towards her. "I'm not Pepper; you're _not_ grounded."

"I'm… not?" She blinked with an incredulous expression. "Is Gambit?"

"No." Fox folded his arms across his chest. "You both have a mission and…"

"You're splitting us up," she scowled. "You ass, I can't believe you're going to put us both to work and split us up; you're a real piece of work, Fox McCloud…!"

Fox glared at her. "Will you shut up? Every defiant word you throw at me is like a shovel that you're using to dig yourself into a deeper hole. Now be quiet and listen to me. Let me back up for a moment. I'll get to your mission in just a minute." He began pacing again. "Your little 'stunt' has positive connotations. With people across the globe worried about Andross and his looming intent to strike… they needed something _positive_ to see. While there are a _lot_ of people who feel that a relationship between a human and a fuzzy alien is very awkward… there are _also_ people who feel that the pose in that photograph is peaceful and friendly. It's calming and serine and you look content with his arms around your waist, while you reach for the flowers from those children. It was perfect; even the flash went off at a great angle, Miyu. Instead of glistening like an animal's eyes would… _your_ eyes happen to have a soft glow in them from the light of sunset in the distance. You look like you're smitten and happy and well received.

"Gambit looks like he's protective of you with his body language; his stance suggests he's enamored with you. The look on his face suggests that he's _happy_. That photograph is so incredibly perfect and captures the mood and setting so damn well… that it did more _good_ than harm. Polls have deduced that while people are divided in half on how they feel regarding the taboo nature of your relationship… the fact remains that the polls also conclude that over eighty-five percent of people are relieved to see it because it alleviates their worries somewhat and gives them something positive to focus on.

"There were worries that we Cornerians would be angry after Krystal was shot down. People worried that she was being nice on television but that the way the Government was suppressing us and keeping us a secret… that we'd eventually grow to be upset. That's partially _my_ fault, because in my televised speech with the president, I mentioned that we were cooped up and just wanted to go home. I said it so that they would see us as normal people just like themselves but… sometimes the best intentions create the biggest headaches. You've come in and fixed all of that. So… congratulations."

Miyu blinked but didn't speak out anymore. She remained silent. She didn't move and kept her eyes forward.

Fox tilted his head. "Did you hear me, Miyu? Your selfishness caused the world to see you… but the image that was printed was one of peace and harmony between our two worlds. The President contacted us this morning – we actually found out about it from him and had to act like we knew what he was talking about. He promoted Daniel, here. As soon as this ship returns, he'll be the rank of Captain. The President said his public opinion polls have _skyrocketed_. He said he wants a copy of that Tokyo paper signed by both you and Gambit. Needless to say, Daniel and I are completely speechless. He also said that there is no longer a need for personnel escorts. The marines on this ship can now act as onboard military police. Their orders will become effective within the hour when they receive their orders directly from Marine command. This outcome does _not_ excuse your behavior. However, because of your behavior, things are going to become easier for everyone, now. People around the globe have started charity donations to help with Krystal getting her ship rebuilt, the GreatFox restored and anything else you can think of. So…"

"…So," she repeated softly. "Are you separating us?"

"No." He approached her and placed a paw on her shoulder. "Miyu, the world's eyes are on you and Gambit. They want to know more about you both. They understand that you both snuck off the ship and a _lot_ of people see the forbidden romance in a strange light. They're mesmerized by it. They're calling the two of you, "Romeo and Juliet" back in the states. I'm not very familiar with the story but Daniel explained the basics before you arrived. He said it's a story about forbidden love. So, on that note, your selfish antics have been romanticized by millions over night."

Watson added, "They're already saying that the man who took the picture may be the fastest ever to receive the Pulitzer Prize for News Breaking Photography. He's an American photojournalist, living in Great Britain, who was on vacation with his family in Tokyo. He just happened to have a good camera on him at the time you and Gambit wondered by."

"I…" She shook her head with a slight shrug. "That means nothing to me. I don't know much about Great Britain and… I'm not sure why that 'prize' thing has significance. However, this wonderful world-uniting photograph happened because I, uh…"

Fox patted the side of her face and walked away. "We know. Beltino told you to go be young and enjoy your time with the human pilot. He's a bit of a hopeless romantic, too… I had no clue. Whatever. What's done is done. You went and did something simple and peaceful with a naïve heart. Neither of you thought about any possible negative ramifications and, luckily, the world needed it as badly as you and Gambit needed it. So…" He reached behind his head, rubbing at the nape of his neck.

"Yes?"

"Krystal called a moment before you walked in the door. She saw everything in your mind, Miyu. She said it was quite… graphic. That's awfully sudden. The people around the world are also naïve. They have no clue that you and Gambit only met just the other day. Daniel said that many people would _not_ approve. Humans use their imaginations and will assume that the two of you have fought side by side and developed a normal relationship at a normal pace. The two of you have taken it upon yourselves to become the ambassadors of peace for this world. Good going. Now the human population wants to take us seriously and help us. So… I'm sending the both of you back to America." As Fox spoke, Miyu's expression began to lighten. "You'll escort Slippy and Beltino back to the GreatFox along with the science team. Then you'll both continue on to Washington DC and give a speech. If asked, respond that the two of you have been working together for quite some time. Don't go into the details that Krystal said you were rattling off to Fay. Stay professional. I want you two seen together in public again because, for some reason, the two of you gave back hope to the people of this planet, somehow. That's what they need most, right now." As McCloud continued, Miyu's expression went from relieved to boisterous. Finally, Fox told her, "Congratulations. You've now got the attention you wanted so badly. Go blow kisses at the cameras; wink, flirt and look cozy with your new 'boyfriend.' I believe the word he would use to describe himself is… your 'beau'. Now go pack your bags."

Miyu nodded excitedly and headed for the door. McCloud called out to her before she left. "And Miyu?" He waited until she glanced over her shoulder before he continued. "We've decided not to punish you. Like I said, I'm not Pepper – you're _not_ grounded. So… if you finally respect me now, can I ask you one favor?"

She nodded emphatically. "Yes, Fox. What is it?"

"Don't go putting yourself in danger again, please? I need you with me when it's time to strike down Andross. I can't do it alone. I need pilots with your skills. So, please… in the future… can you just respect my leadership calls? I admit we were wrong to lock down everybody. I admit it was difficult to ask you to stay low for the last several months. Now you've got publicity and you're the focus of a planet's attention, okay? You've got what you want… now can you repay me by following my future orders?"

Gambit approached Miyu in the doorway. She said, "Yes, Fox. We're a team and you're the team leader, okay?" She then turned and her face lit up further, seeing Gambit. She stepped aside, letting him into the office then hugged him.

Watson ran his hand through his hair. "Gambit, welcome to the meeting."

He gave Miyu a gentle pat on the rump then released her from the hug and turned to his commanding officer. "At first I thought you might want to give me another firm lecture but I heard about all the publicity on the way up here, Monsieur. I was asked to autograph two newspapers – it's like Tokyo all over again. I also heard you're getting a promotion, _mon Capitan_, you sly dog, you. News travels faster on these ships than it does backstage at CNN, non?"

"Apparently so," murmured Watson. He drew in a long, slow breath and announced, "Pack your bags, Gambit. You'll be escorting two Learjet-36's, full of world-class scientists to Pearl Harbor. From there, you'll refuel and escort the two Lear jets back to San Diego**. **From there, you head to Wyoming. Once they've landed safely, you'll spend the night aboard the GreatFox ship then head east to Washington DC. You'll moonlight as a couple _but_ people will find it awkward if they learn that you've _only_ just met Miyu. If asked, tell them you've been working together for months. The two of you may still believe in love at first sight…" Watson's words caused Gambit and Miyu to steal a look at one another, because Miyu had said it to him the night before. Daniel continued. "However, most people feel that it's far more classy to have a relationship develop over time. So be selective in what you tell people. I'll have Miyu fill you in on everything we've told her thusfar. For now, you're both dismissed. Pack your belongings and head down to the hanger. Krystal should be finishing up with the science team any time, now. Also, you'll be taking the Marine who calls herself, '_Sarge'_."

"Aye, Sir," said the Cajun with a smile. "Anything else?"

Watson thought for a moment then nodded. "Actually, yes. You'll be taking an Arwing for this mission. It's better to be safe than sorry. Also, you'll have an escort of F-35's from here to Pearl Harbor. They've been outfitted with extra internal fuel bays at the exchange of fewer missiles. They've also been outfitted with a prototype of the new Mobile THEL system. …Just in case. The Lear jets, as well as the F-35's will require in-air refueling. These passenger jets were set up in order to allow for it. You'll meet up with them in air as they're flying out of Yokosuka."

"Oui, à tout hazard," replied Gambit. He saw the look of confusion on Watson's face and said, "Juste au cas où tu as des difficultés." He waved his hand, rolling it at the wrist then added, "Just … in case it's a difficult journey is what I mean, mon Capitan. I know, Louisiana Bayou French ain' nothin' like Canadian French or European French. Oh, and felicitations! You've earned your promotion, monsieur." He waved to Fox and Watson, coming alongside of Miyu. He put an arm around her and reached for the door. "Au revoir… or, should I say… Sayonara!" He gestured her through then followed her out and closed the door behind himself.

* * *

Chapter -15-  
"Hawaiian Vacation"

**"I miss the thrust vectoring,"** said Tailhook, shifting his weight in the F-35's cockpit. He cut his gaze over at Revlon's plane and, in the far distance, Wild Bill and Doomsday's planes. In between the two pairs of fighters, there were two sleek Cornerian Arwings. Behind them were two Learjet model 36's. They glistened in the afternoon sunlight.

"What's wrong?" asked Revlon with a girlish chuckle. "You upset that you can't perform the Herbst Maneuver? So what? Those Arwings don't utilize thrust vectoring either… and _those things_ are supposed to be nimble as hell."

Gambit came over the intercom. "In space, mon ami. The Arwing flies well when you need speed and climb, but if you're going for J-turns, fuh'get it. However, at four and a half times mach, why worry? And with the ability to hit the brakes the way this thing is designed… who needs it?"

Miyu came over the line. "The retro-reverse rockets are part of the reason for needing G-defusing technology. That and… the 'other' reason, of course."

Bill's voice came over the patch clearly. I heard _the other reason_ was classified. Care to let us in on your secret?"

"It's a defensive feature that _your_ government, for some reason, wishes to keep classified. I'm sorry. Hey, if we're attacked over the next four thousand miles, I'll be sure to let you in on it, deal?"

Doomsday was next. "Four thousand miles is a _long_ way. It surely presents plenty of possibilities for attack. I sure wish we could run this distance at mach one… it would shave off two hours or so."

Girlish tittering followed. "Be lucky those passenger jets can do four hundred miles per hour as it is. But yes, this will be a long seven or eight hours." Revlon paused then added, "From Pearl City, you guys will be in San Diego before we can get back to the ship."

"Technically, yes… but theoretically, _no_," said Bill. "The Ford will start heading back towards Hawaii… in fact, it already has left port. We're staying at Pearl Harbor over night and flying back tomorrow. Yes, they'll be in California before we're back on the Ford but what I'm trying to say is… it won't be as long of a trip home."

Doomsday sounded as gloomy as ever without a target to chase. "Still plenty of time to get attacked… and the ride home will be sans Arwing support."

Bill grinned widely. "Then guess what? We'll be the first four fighters to take out a squadron of alien fighters without help!"

"Hell yeah, that's what I'm talking about!" replied the youthful Tailhook. "Wild Bill, you might be the oldest pilot I've met, but you also say all the right things and kick more ass than anyone I've flown with. That's what I'm talkin' about."

The older pilot offered a chuckle. "I just never grew up, kid." Bill then added, "On the way home, we can supercruse. Besides, the Ford will be running patrols _and_ since the Arwing can hit nearly five times mach… Fox, Falco and Fay are only minutes away if we're in trouble. We'll be fine. Personally, I'm jealous of Gambit. I've had a pretty good Navy career and… I'll probably retire before ever getting to fly one of those bad boys. So how is it, ya Cajun swamp rat?"

Gambit chuckled. "It's like flying a video game. You roll over and feel nothing. You pull up into a climb and you feel nothing. You roll over and dive hard… you feel nothing. It's consistent normalized gravity in all situations, including space. I don't need a flight suit, gloves, a helmet or oxygen. Although, the aliens have their oxygen mixture set differently so… I feel a bit high when I fly… By the time we came back from our, ah… patrol the other day… I felt like I'd joined the mile _high_ club. And I don't mean sexually."

Miyu's visual came over the holo-bar above his HUD. "Gambit, hon, why didn't you tell Slippy so he could have made some changes?"

"Because I like it," he replied with another chuckle. "It also helps me concentrate." He offered her a wink, knowing she was the only one able to see it.

"Cute," replied the lynx, calmly adding, "Doomsday, you must be psychic. I've got half a dozen blips on my sensor scope. They're in a tight formation and on a perpendicular intercept course. We should cross paths in four minutes."

Gambit was ready for a fight. "Should we let the F-35's protect the Learjets and head out there? I say we shut them down right now – let's go."

A tone of authority came over the communication's patch. "Actually, belay Gambit's order, Arwing team; you're not going anywhere," cut in Wild Bill, "It should be the other way around. You two should be the last line of defense so that if we're destroyed, the two of you can protect the escort. Stay here and twiddle your thumbs, you two. You're already hogging all the fun by flying those things – it's time to take these Lightning II's out for a little shakedown ride." A pause, then, "C'mon, you three. Let's check out the party crashers. Doomsday, you want to lead again like last time? Seems you really enjoyed yourself the other day."

Doom chuckled in return. "I didn't know it before but… something tells me you've got rank _and_ experience on me. We hardly beat one last time… maybe you can do better." He moved close behind Bill. Revlon and Tailhook crossed overtop the Arwings, forming up with Bill and Doomsday. "Besides, I wouldn't want to lose another pilot."

Tailhook grinned broadly. "Man, oh man. I hope all that test fighting with Fay will pay off. I can't wait to kick some ass."

"Doomsday, you did _fine_ last time," said Revlon. "Don't be hard on yourself. Smiley lived – it was you three boys who ensured the rest of us stayed in the air that day… okay we're ready. Bill? Remember, no brevity codes over the radio."

Wild Bill chuckled. "It's second nature after all this time. I'll do my best to stow that stuff, okay? Alright, team! Full 'burn; let's go get'em!" He punched the throttle bar and laid into the afterburners. His F-35 climbed in speed with Doomsday, Tailhook and Revlon in pursuit. They quickly left the other four aircraft behind.

"Call if you're in a jam, mes amis," Gambit reminded them. "Let us know if the mobile THEL system even makes a difference, s'il vous plaît." He watched as the four dots shrank in the clear blue sky. "Now I'm the one who is jealous, ma chatte. They're getting all the fun, non?"

"Just let'em do their jobs," said Miyu with a frown. "Trust me, I wish I was the one out there but… I think Wild Bill knows what he's doing… I mean, what if it was a trap, right?"

"Oui, he's a sly salty sea dog, ma chérie."

Meanwhile, the team of Navy fighters approached the incoming extra terrestrial ships but they looked far different from the Flea Class seen previously. Wild Bill waited until the four fighters were within a mile before exclaiming, "Break and attack! Let's drive these guys apart then chase'em down! Remember to exercise angles and keep these things from getting behind you!" The four fighters broke apart with Bill continuing on his straight path.

"Okay, everyone," announced Doom. "Get your Mobile THEL systems online and let's start with the frequency preset that worked on the Flea shields Fay used." Almost immediately, Doomsday's mood began to lighten. He remained physically calm but his eyes danced with a secret excitement and his heart began to race.

"Hey," said Tailhook, "We should place bets on who gets the most of these things!"

Revlon snorted. "You mean the way Miyu gambled her lips to Gambit for getting the most kills? How about… if _I_ get the most kills, the three of you have to serve me geedunk in my quarters at any hour of the day, one time _per_ day for every fighter I knock down?"

"I was actually talking about something more lucrative," said Tailhook. "Like cash. You _each_ pay me _five hundred bucks_ for every one of those things _I_ trash."

Doomsday punched his afterburner again. "Shut up, both of you. I need to get in my element. You'll both run two laps around the flight deck for every ship you _don't_ take out. Get ready to do twelve laps because these six fighters are _mine_."

Bill grinned. He tapped his fingers on a numeric keypad mounted on the side of the cockpit. The Mobile THEL system showed green lights on his dash. "Boy, you three talk more smack than I do… that's pretty hard to do, y'know?" He pierced through the formation of six enemies. Two were Interceptor III class fighters, two were a variation of the 'Flea' class, known as the 'battle butterfly' and two were 'Space Kite II' class fighters. Two _more_ fighters came in from the east, sporting a different hull-type entirely. "Zott" class fighters, they had a three-part frame with a large towering tail fin. The designed made Bill wonder how they could even maneuver in atmospheric airspace.

"Eight against four," murmured Doomsday, the fire and energy suddenly missing from his tone. "How can we even hope to fight these guys? Perhaps we should lead them back to the Arwings… but that doesn't seem wise either."

Revlon had one of the Kite II's on her tail almost immediately. She gritted her teeth and began to pull a loop – it followed. "Yeah, no… They've got civilian scientists to worry about. Keep it together – Bill, I took your advice about keeping these guys off my tail… but they didn't wanna' listen!"

Doomsday sighed in reply to her mention of the scientists. "No worries. Sometimes I get a little dark – sometimes it's Wesley Snipes dark, other times it's Charlie Murphy dark – right now, I'm feeling burnt match – we're out numbered and out gunned. Okay – those guys that look like the Flea-Class fighters we engaged the other day… I'm going after'em." He moved away from the group, heading towards one of the fighters with the odd looking 'wings'.

"You've got an odd sense of humor, Doom," said Tailhook, heading for the closest fighter. It was one of the oddly shaped Zott class ships. "I've not seen any of these… things. Do they have names?"

"Yeah," said Bill. "Bandits. Let the Star Fox team classify these weirdoes later. Let's just shoot'em down, fer now. How's that sound?" He moved in behind the Space Kite II on Revlon's tail and opened fire with the Mobile THEL unit. The small ball-shaped unit, now in place beneath the F-35, fired. Its invisible light beam struck the shields of the Kite fighter behind Revlon. "C'mon, work for me…"

Doomsday licked his lips, moving away from his bandit to provide Bill with cover. "I hate using these damn laser things. Deuterium powered, fine… but it's the fluorine in these MTHEL's that worry me… Chemical lasers are dangerous."

"It doesn't matter," said Tailhook, adding a grunt on the end as he forced his jet into a high-G maneuver to break away from an attacker. "Whether or not you've got an explosively dangerous prototype weapon mounted beneath your butt doesn't matter, because one shot from one of these guys is going to ruin your day regardless!" He suddenly began chanting the word, "C'mon…" repeatedly.

Tailhook came at another angle, taking a few quick shots at the enemy behind Revlon from above while making a power dive towards the Pacific Ocean. He passed by with a Zott fighter following after him. "These things pace pretty darn good considering they look like crap. But look at'em! Look how they're designed; how do they even achieve lift?"

Revlon led the pack with one of the Kite class fighters still behind her. Wild Bill and Doomsday followed after it, continuing to punch in commands to change the frequency of the MTHEL unit with every attack against the pursuer.

Tailhook's stall alarm sounded. His proximity detection alarm went off, overlapping the first warning tone. His cockpit shook, his flight stick felt somewhat tight. Laid out before his eyes was a massive blue wall of water. "Almost…there. C'mon, c'mon… so close."

"What're you doing?" demanded Doom. "Pull up, you dummy!"

"I'm proving a point," said Tailhook through gritted teeth. "You see that guy's fighter? Just… give me a second." He jerked the stick back, clinching his teeth together. His body ached. The fighter began to pull, catching drag on its wing flaps. The nose lifted and the readout on his dash showed a digital line creeping towards the illustration of his craft on the monitor. "Almost…!"

"Look!" The voice belonged to Revlon, flying with her fighter inverted. She glanced upwards, through the canopy and watched as Tailhook made wide U-turn and began to climb. The Zott fighter, with its spread-out catamaran-like wing design began to pull up but wasn't able to manage it in atmospheric conditions. It struck the water at a forty-degree angle. Its left wing ripped from the hull and skipped across the ocean water like a stone across a pond. The fighter exploded but the fiery hull disappeared beneath the waves, which consumed the flames quickly.

The Navy fighter headed straight back up into the sky with the afterburner glowing brightly. "Jesus," murmured Tailhook. "From redout to brownout. Now if I can just… get some good climb…"

Revlon watched him streak by, heading into the sky. "Bold but… hemorrhagic stroke… or worse… G-LOC; be careful, Tailhook."

"Why? It worked, didn't it? Let's try and provoke that other guy of the same design… Maybe I can do it twice. Besides, is that a hint of concern I detect in your voice?" His tone sounded weary from the pressure on his body.

"Your G-Suit doesn't help against dives like that," she said in a scorning tone. "Don't get yourself killed."

Tailhook didn't reply. He zeroed in on the other Zott fighter and came directly at it. "Guns!" he announced, opening fire. The Vulcan cannon roared to life, striking the cockpit of the fighter with a spray of rounds. He then arced about. The Zott moved into position, following the turning F-35. This time, Tailhook shouted boisterously. "I've hooked another fishy! It's time to reel'em in!" He swooped about and headed back towards the Pacific Ocean. "Follow me, you piece of crap!" To his delight, the Zott fighter pursued him into the dive. His body ached again. The blue body of water began to take on a pinkish-red hue. "Almost there," he murmured. A dazzling green bar of energy lanced out from the Zott. It narrowly missed Tailhook, disappearing into the ocean. A mere second after striking the water's surface, a spray of water geysered up with a plume of steam.

Again, the F-35 began to shake. Proximity alarms screamed in protest, joined in a dissonant duet with his stall-warning alarm. The greenish-yellow display monitors showed flashing red letterings and logos. He watched the digital altimeter then, rather suddenly, he jerked back on the stick and gritted his teeth again. His legs felt somewhat numb and his head ached terribly. The nose of the fighter began to pull. "C'mon," he murmured wearily. His arms were tight and his joints burned, tugging against the stick with his upper body strength while planting his feet against the metallic floor panels in front of the rudder pedals.

The Zott fired again. The magnificent green beam came within a few feet of his canopy, startling Tailhook. His eyes ached and a small amount of blood rolled down over his top lip, coming from his nose. It left a salty, metallic taste in his mouth and continued down to his chin. It moved along the strap beneath his helmet. The horizon came into view and he came parallel with the ocean surface, speeding along two meters above the white caps.

Tailhook jerked back on the stick again, creating a brilliant rooster-tail spray from the power of his booster. As he began the climb, the pilot glanced over his shoulder, seeing a massive splash from the second Zott as it struck. His eyes went forward again, in time to see the second Kite II fighter bearing down on him. He clinched the stick and mashed down on the MTHEL trigger. A bubble fizzled around the second Kite from energy discharge.

It fired its main guns, clipping the tip of his vertical stabilizer. It scorched the metal. He gave his flight stick a firm jerk to the port then moved it back to the starboard, sighing in relief when the fighter responded. "That was _close_!" He zipped by the second Kite II, heading into the sky. Both Battle Butterflies, looking almost identical to the Flea Class fighters, came from the west to engage the young pilot. "…Great! God damn these things!"

Wild Bill watched as the first Kite II went to the left and Revlon broke to the right. He stayed straight, coming up at an angle on one of the Interceptor III's. Again, he fired the MTHEL chemical laser mounted beneath the F-35. The Interceptor-Class fighter suddenly began a hard climb. Bill blinked in realization that he'd spooked the pilot and immediately began chase, climbing in an attempt to get another shot. The spherical weapon beneath his fighter hummed, concentrating its power on the aft shields of the Interceptor. An arc of blue appeared to flit above the alien craft. The arc forked out until a strange pattern of lightning appeared, closing around the Interceptor like glowing fingers.

Seconds later, the backside of the craft began to glow with smoke billowing from behind it. The MTHEL continued to direct its power on the hull plating of the fighter. Bill calmly announced, "Two away." The sidewinder missile followed after the heated backside of the fighter. "I can't let you hog all the glory, Tailhook." The missile slammed into the back of the Interceptor in a brilliant flash. Thick, dark smoke poured out of the fighter and it began to change course. To Bill's surprise, the gradual arc of the fighter didn't match up to his heading. The aft section of the craft fishtailed around then surrendered to gravity. It fell from the sky, sideways, and landed in the ocean on the starboard section of the fuselage. There was no explosion, just a colossal splash.

"Fantastic!"

"Hey! What're they up to?" asked Revlon, adding, "They're making erratic course changes…!" The two Battle Butterfly ships came about. At the belly-up angle, they looked identical to the Flea-Class fighters. They began to climb rapidly with the remaining Interceptor III ship moving alongside of them. Both Space Kite II's formed up and all five ships began to make a hard climb. Revlon, Doomsday and Tailhook came together in pursuit. Wild Bill eased back on his stick, watching the fighters turn into dots.

"What the hell? Are they _running away_? That doesn't seem right… perhaps they're going to report? They hardly put up a fight; they hardly fired more than a few shots. They _should_ have overwhelmed us!"

A familiar voice came over the radio. "D'ees is Gambit; are you all right? We have _ten_ unidentified alien aircraft… they are bearing down on our location. What is your status, pilots?"

Bill clinched his hand into a gloved fist. "It was a recon group and they acted as a _diversion_! Back to the escort! Double time!" They came about and formed up together. Following Bill, the four navy fighters went wide open on the throttle, surpassing mach speed and climbing. "Ten fighters… Christ Almighty! New objectives, gang: We let the Arwings do their jobs – chase off any bandits that come at the Lear Jets. Time to target… a minute and forty seconds."

"God damn," muttered Revlon. "They must have called in reinforcements as soon as we engaged them. I saw one of the fighter pilots eject when the fighter struck the water. No explosion, just a splash… but I'm not sure the pilot made it out."

"What do you mean?" asked Doom.

"Well," the female officer cleared her throat and said, "I saw the ejection unit start to come out; the plane hit the water on its side, though. He was too close to one of those things that Tailhook led into the ocean. It appeared to me like the ejection unit skipped across the surface, struck the remains of one of those other ships then the whole damn pile of twisted wreckage, cockpit included, sank. Maybe the guy's canopy unit is waterproof but… all of it sank with the other fighter's wreckage… so it's a good possibility that thing won't survive. I'm going to send an encoded message to the Ford with the coordinates and have them figure out what they want to do."

"Copy that," said Bill. He changed his tone and touched the communication's panel controls. "Gambit, have you engaged these things yet?"

"Non; they're swarming us but they've not yet attacked. There are real pilots in _these_ fighters."

"_We think_ so to," began Bill but he was immediately cut off by Gambit.

"Non, monsieur… there are _definitely_ pilots in the ships attackin' us. They're using the video communication patch to try and taunt us. The one that contacted me was a reptile… like a big lizard or something… But I couldn't understand him. Get back here when you're able."

"We're on our way," said Wild Bill. "The four of us managed to take down three fighters out of eight. Tailhook figured out that one of the four fighter types are susceptible to atmospheric dives due to poor handling in this theater… they couldn't do it… so he led it right into the ocean. Two of them in a row, actually."

"Bravo! Tu as fait un travail magnifique! Now do us a favor and get here!" Meanwhile, Gambit's eyes returned to the holo-bar communication's patch with Miyu. His tone relaxed and he grinned at the feline. "Hey, chère. You wanna set the bar higher than a kiss this time, ma chatte?"

She smirked in reply. "What did you have in mind, loverboy?"

Jules grinned broadly. "I'll be your taxidermist, amour." He saw the confusion on her face in the holo-bar and said, "Because, chérie, it appears you need to get stuffed." He touched two fingers to his lips, kissed them then extended his palm forward and blew softly across it.

Miyu's jaw dropped and her eyes widened. "Hey! Stealin' my moves!" She laughed but her tone and expression showed that she was ready to compete. "And if I win, you can _carry_ me anywhere I want to go for the rest of the day." She shoved the throttle bar forward, adding, "And I can't exactly say what I'm going to ask of you over the comm. channel, but I won't disappoint you." Her fighter streaked to the right then came about hard in a u-turn, headed back towards the ten fighters on the far port side.

The human pilot grinned. "I aim to please and I aim to win our little bet, petit – you'll see."

"Then show me how it's done and take out these creeps!" She blazed by him with full boost, forward mounted cannons flashing wildly. She had her throttle wide open. She barrel rolled to the left, breaking to chase after a group of enemies.

"Arwing team," came a familiar voice. Fox McCloud's image showed over the holo-bar of both Cornerian fighters. "I'm looking at live satellite footage of your engagement. I'm seeing another group of fighters heading towards you at a high rate of speed. It looks like five more fighters. Can the two of you handle fifteen? I can be out there in six minutes – ten if you include prep and take off time."

"Non, tha' won't be necessary, Monsieur McCloud." Gambit grinned. "The Navy fighters have already downed three enemy ships. Two were taken down by _out flying_ them. The other one was apparently destroyed the old fashion way, monsieur. Stand by on the flight deck in case of an emergency but… let us do our job. Trial by fire, non? I know we weren't trained to fly these Arwings but… I can handle it, I assure you."

Fox nodded with a frown. "I implore you to ask for help if the situation calls for it."

Gambit nodded. "I'm a humble man. If they swarm us or if we lose a pilot, we'll call for you. For now, let us rely on our training and our equipment."

Back on the bridge of the Ford, Fox McCloud closed his paw into a fist of worry. He turned to Watson and Krystal, announcing, "I'm taking Falco and Fay. Fifteen against two? That's typically no big deal but with a human pilot in one of our machines… I can't chance it. We can't lose that Arwing." He tightened his jaw, clenching his teeth.

Krystal placed a paw on his chest, standing up from a crate by the bulkhead. Instinctively her other paw went to her stomach, favoring the mending abdomen muscles. "Fox, he won't lose that Arwing. He KNOWS to keep it safe and would probably run with it if his shields starting getting low. These human pilots are quite good."

He cut his gaze to Watson who said nothing. The commander's gaze told McCloud that Krystal made a point. McCloud sighed and withdrew his communicator. He called Falco, waited for the avian to pick up, then said, "Just be on standby. Get Fay and have three Arwings on the flight deck in case of an emergency. Gambit and Miyu are up against fifteen."

Falco's voice came over the line. "I've flown with the guy. He's a big boy, Fox. I didn't have to hold his hand _at all_. He outperformed Miyu by about half a dozen enemies. I know, I know… six baddies – not very much but… considering it was his first time flying the Arwing, he did a far better job than the testing team Pepper tried to use before turning to us, back in the day. He's a natural. These 'video game' things really prepared him to fly an Arwing. We should get our mitts on one and see what all the fuss is."

The vulpine pilot blinked several times. "You're disobeying my order? Get your tail feathers up on the flight deck, Falco!"

Lombardi sighed. "I told you, I flew with the guy. I flew with Miyu. They can HANDLE IT, Fox! I'll tell Fay to be ready at a moment's notice… but," he paused and his voice became muffled from having feathery fingers over the receiver on his end. The line cleared and he said, "Fox, Fay is standing right here and she says that the Navy fighters stand a chance, offensively. All they have to do is figure out what frequency the enemy shield's are on… and that will even the fight, okay? Stop trying to hog all the glory all the time. We'll be in the hanger, just in case you don't listen to Krystal or Watson. I know you get a wild hair up your ass from time to time and want to do everything yourself. Oh, wait… no, that's your tail; do us a favor and keep sitting on it."

Fox blinked, surprised by Falco's wording. "How did you know about Krystal and Watson and furthermore…" He paused, drawing the communicator from his ear. He'd heard loud beeping over the line, singling that the other party has ended the transmission. His eyes panned slowly towards Krystal and Watson. "What?"

"Falco knows you quite well," she murmured.

Daniel Watson shrugged, adding, "Sometimes, a good leader has to know when to listen to his team. We can't all be tactical geniuses. Speaking of which…" He turned to Krystal and, quietly, said, "Can you call up Mister Peppy Hare? I'd like his help in looking over some strategies and maps. Have him meet me upstairs in the section where we have those glass maps on display. You know the one?"

"I do," she replied then turned to Fox. "You're all worked up. You need to learn to relax. I sensed confidence and other similar things from Gambit. I know you're worried about losing the Arwing but would you rather have Slippy and _me_ up there? Miyu is quite accomplished. Not only that, but Gambit earned a _compliment_ from _Falco_."

McCloud closed his other paw into a fist to match the first one. "What the hell is Venom doing out here, anyhow? Why hasn't anyone else noticed? Is Venom out here because they somehow know that this area is clear? Is it because we're out here and their inside operative, if they really have one, doesn't know we're here and they're milling around because they think this area is supposed to be empty due to everyone being ordered to avoid our location?" His verbose, long-winded sentence didn't stop there. "Or is it the other way around? Are they stalking us, doing reconnaissance on Star Fox and its allies? If so, how do they KNOW we're here?"

"Good question. Four months of nothing… and now _two_ skirmishes in a row," said Daniel. He folded his arms. "However, the pilots reported that they saw an ejecting pilot. I've already notified the proper authorities. Those three fighters and the ejected pilot will be picked up soon – obviously, that same crew is coming in to work Gambit and Miyu's current location as well. Those cleanup boys have their work cut out for them."

"Right now, I'm more worried about Arwing fragments in the Pacific. If we lose another Arwing, it will really dampen our abilities to attack that CoreBase. Our chances for success lower with every less available Arwing in the air."

Krystal placed her paw on her mate's arm. "Like I said, Fox… you have Gambit and Miyu flying up there. Falco said the guy was good and you _know_ Falco isn't the kind to sling praise easily. After all, would you rather have them… or me and Slippy flying up there? The Arwing is in safe hands."

With a nod, Fox finally sighed and turned back to the satellite feed monitor. "I'm sorry. It's just difficult, Krystal. And you, yourself, are a great pilot – especially against non-mechanical foes. Don't sell yourself short."

"Why did you mention yourself and the younger frog?" asked the commander, turning to face the blue-furred vixen.

"I'm too injured to fly and Slippy so rarely locks onto his targets that the ship he's building, the Bull Frog, is going to have plasma cannons but it'll lack a target-lock computer. At least Gambit and Miyu utilize computer locks."

Fox lifted his paws, gesturing them both to be quiet and look at the real-time satellite screen. "This is it," he told them, pointing to the Navy jets that approached a mass of black and gray images on the screen. The diamond-formation of F-35's split apart, rushing into the fray. "They've engaged Andross' forces."

* * *

A/N: _Dun dun DUNNN! WHAT WILL WE DO?! So anyway, I'll do ONE more chapter of Détente, this week, before finishing and posting the last of the Sly Cooper stories, Dawn of Progeny and Spy Cooper. Then I'll come back, finish this story, finish Reflections of Marcus and Fox, The Curse, maybe Similar Paths Taken, and Castlevania: Claws of Fate. That's the plan. I want to have all this stuff done by New Years! _

_Btw, all the Venom Fighters in this story are taken out of the SNES StarFox game. Battle Butterfly (Called "FLEA fighters" in the comics), Zott, Space Kite II's, Invader II and III ships are all used and documented. You can find information on them on the ArwingLanding website as well as most anything else. (Shameless Plug!)  
_

_-Me_


	10. Chapter 16 by itself

A/N: _Sorry, for all of you who expected crazy wild action or romance in this chapter, I took a break from that so that I could tie up some loose ends before going forward. This chapter is dialogue heavy. Romance and Action returns full-force in the next update, "Chapter 17: A Call to Arms" and I plan to work on it asap! In fact, I'm already knee deep in it. See, I wanted to get into some of the Venom technology vs. Human technology battlefield scenes before cranking out the last 3 chapters to complete my Sly Cooper trilogy. Okay, now to answer some storyline questions and perhaps make some new ones, too. I want to explore Andross' desire to attack. I wanted to explore the capture of a Venom Pilot and Krystal's ability to interrogate by using telepathy and psychology… and one of my favorite sub-plot introductions… DARPA's reasons for trying to get closer to Star Fox technology. If you don't know who DARPA is, it stands for the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, the darling of the Department of Defense and the Pentagon. They've been around since 1958, around the time Sputnik became a big deal, if I remember correctly. Finally, I want to explore what Slippy can learn about human imagination because it's going to affect the way the story ends, most likely. Okay, that's about it! Let's see what happens! _

* * *

Chapter -16-  
"The Calm Before The Storm"

**Andross narrowed his gaze, **watching his ships on the grainy video feed. Repeatedly, the words '_Low Reception!_' flashed across the bottom of the view screen. On occasion, the image was reduced to a snowy burst of static. The lead fighter of the group was a reptile named Caiman. He called to his second team for emergency maneuvers then followed with a formation code. His fighters regrouped and came about to change their priority. They were beyond Andross' ability to guide their actions, leaving the entire battle up to the lizard pilot whose voice he could barely understand over the network.

"…Bravo team! Escort ship… priority! …Last thing you do! Hold that line, brother - we're not running away unless I'm dead!" The audio was as bad as the video. The lead ship came around, facing the escort planes again. Lasers charged then discharged in an attempt to strike down the target. Rather suddenly, another Venom fighter streaked across the screen, overcome by flames. It disappeared from view again.

"…Have new… this weapon is their only… Try and change the frequency of your shields with a modulation repeater! Is that possible – do any of you know how to change…?"

Andross folded his hands behind his back. "Hmm… Clever pilot; I thought he was an idiot but perhaps I was only partially correct." He walked away from the screen and sat down at a desk. Oikonny touched a panel of buttons at the edge of the desk and a computer terminal raised from it. He opened a communication to a mandrill elsewhere on base. "General Blalock, ready the troops. We're going to try a new tactic that seems to work on the Earth defenses… they have the ability to manually change their laser attack method, running through multiple frequencies until they find something that naturally damages our shield energy output. I want you to get a science team on the task of creating a frequency modulator that loops and auto repeats, changing frequency every tenth of a second; do this for ALL ships. If they cannot penetrate our shields, we'll march right over them. Next, I want you to ready the troops. It seems that Star Fox has taken down our subspace communication buoys and it's probable that they have discovered our mining operations. Now that they've found our stealth survey team on Earth, they may be preparing an offensive or otherwise preemptive strike plan."

"Shouldn't we draw StarFox out here to our turf and ambush them? Then we can walk right over the human planet anyway we see fit."

Andross narrowed his gaze at the General's image on the screen. "Blalock, you imbecile, I coaxed StarFox into fighting me on my turf in the past. They destroyed my home and the Imperial Empire of Venom; the planet's economy was crippled, do you remember? They're the reason your family couldn't afford to give you gifts during your youth, you idiot.

"Now, my sources tell me that they're shy of one fighter… the one that your son managed to shoot down… You're lucky he managed to eject. He's one of my best current aces. I digress… My sources also tell me that McCloud's main ship is underground, receiving repairs. With them at a disadvantage, we must seize the opportunity to fight. Now is our best chance. We launch the attack in seventy-two Standard Lylat Hours. I understand that Corneria has an almost identical rotation schedule to this world, Earth. Exterminate everything as though this planet was Corneria. I want you to pick a large, easy target to penetrate their defenses. The target is your choice. Prepare everything in advance so that there is only one trip; I do not want your advance initially detected. Send a _small_ first wave, however. I want to test them before I crush them. Tank units, some infantry units, a fair amount of superior air fighters and escorts for them… I want cruisers in the area to resupply the front line. In seventy-two hours, we'll depart from the base. In approximately ninety-six hours, I would like to begin the attack against their world. Do you understand?"

The mandrill nodded, saluted, then nodded in respect to his leader. "Aye, Doctor Andross! We'll be ready and awaiting your command in record time should you wish to attack sooner. Until then, my liege!" The screen darkened.

Andross lifted his gaze back to the large screen at the front of the room. Only a handful of fighters remained. He closed his hands into fists. "These Arwings are fine machines. Perhaps it's time to finally get my hands on one to expose their flaws and study their strengths." He folded his hands, growing quiet.

* * *

_Four days remaining before 'the attack'…_

**"Finally!"** announced Revlon with a boisterous tone. She followed the Space Kite II class ship as it spun like a gyroscope, dropping altitude. The ship struck the water and skipped off the waves. Its spinning motion changed direction each time it bounced. After the fourth, he splashed into the ocean. She zipped by it then pulled up, heading back into the fray. "Okay, four left! These things really take a beating!"

Another Interceptor III streaked through the sky, unloading on the second Learjet. Its high output blaster cannons caused a bright flash against the shield bubble surrounding the jet. Revlon changed heading, chasing after the attacker. "It's a good thing Mister Beltino was able to come up with some sort of short-term shield generator! It's a shame the bubble isn't large enough to protect part of the wings or the nosecone." She then asked, "How're you holding up, Wing Commander?"

Wild Bill chuckled. "I'm getting tired. My stomach is getting upset from all these damn dives and climbs. I'm flyin' my ass off to stay alive 'cause I'm out of missiles. Extended fuel tanks be damned – I'd take additional in-flight refueling stops any day of the week!"

"Aw," she teased. "Is that _complaining_ I hear? I still have two missiles – F2 and F3."

"F2 _AND_ F3? You sunk my battleship," Tailhook declared. "Oh, and I still have _all_ of my missiles! See that? And I've taken down _three_ fighters! It's all about skill, ladies and gentleman."

"Luck," replied Doomsday. "You had two dumb enemy pilots follow you to the big drink because they were too stupid to realize the design of their fighter prohibited a smooth pull up in this atmosphere." A pause, then Doom said, "Okay, mine is down. Now it's _official_… there are _four_ left."

Revlon grinned. "I figured you'd get'em. It was just a matter of time."

Doomsday chuckled dryly. "Indeed – like Revlon said, everyone… four left. Wait! What are they doing?"

Miyu's voice came over their audio patch. "Caiman, you pansy! Get your scaly butt back here and finish this fight!"

The lizard's visual displayed on her holo-bar "Caiman is my _brother! _ He's not nearly as successful as me and now, thanks to this fight, I'm rightfully in charge of this squadron! He who fights and runs away, lives to kill you tomorrow! You just be glad that Star Wolf isn't here, else we'd have already taken this stupid planet by now… but it won't matter; Earth is doomed anyhow!"

The lynx gritted her teeth and went after the four fighters that ascended into the stratosphere. "Star Wolf is a trio of outlaws that don't even associate with your type anymore!" She added the boost, gaining on them. "Get back here; I'll destroy you all, myself!"

"Miyu!" Fox McCloud's voice was firm over the line. "Let him run. We'll monitor his progress on the Spitzer Space Telescope. You guys were amazing and there were no casualties. I'm _very_ proud of you all – please continue on to Pearl Harbor, your next navigational waypoint. Believe me, I want to take out every target too, Miyu… but if they're going to run away… it's for the best. I don't want you drawn into a trap and having anything happen. If you're led away… you never know if Gambit and the rest of the Navy pilots are going to come under attack, so please stay with them."

Miyu sighed, hearing Fox repeat himself in various ways, attempting to get through to her. Finally, she fired off a single blaster shot then broke pursuit. "Yeah, yeah… heading back to the escort. I know, I know… it's the single most important rule in escorting… don't stray from the damn thing… but Beltino has a shield generator built from… who knows what… bubblegum and office supplies? They should be fine."

"No use chancing it," said Fox. "Stay with the escort, please. My childhood friend is aboard one of those planes, Miyu. Okay, again, everyone did a fantastic job! You'll all be taking turns refueling very soon. Next stop is an archipelago named Hawaii. It's United States territory. I'll hope for friendly skies – Fox out." The transmission ended.

"So," said Wild Bill. "Hawaii. It's funny but in all the times I've been to Pearl Harbor, I've never once stayed the night there unless it was on a ship. There are two military resorts there – Bellows Air Station in Waimanalo, and Hale Koa Hotel in Honolulu. I'm thinking we should shack up at the Hale Koa; it's the closest to Pearl City."

"Where are we landing?" asked Tailhook. "Hickam or is there a carrier for us? Where are the Arwings landing, for that matter?"

Wild Bill came over the line. "They're not. They're making the long haul to Wyoming tonight. I understand those ships can fly themselves with autopilot systems active. There are reserve pilots on the Learjets to make the second leg of the trip. Miyu and Gambit can relax and engage their autopilot functions."

"Long trip," said Doom, quietly. "Especially since you can't exceed four hundred thirty miles per hour. You're all going to be exhausted."

"Oui, but we are grown men, my friend." Gambit shifted his weight, leaning back into the seat. "It is of no consequence, mon ami – we are sharp pilots and ready for long hours at salary pay! I have Miyu's conversation to keep me on my toes. Also, Tailhook, listen to the CAG next time they're explaining the mission, goofy boy. You're not landing at Hickam. That is an Air Force Base. You are a _Navy Pilot_, oui? It is a simple deduction – you'll fly to the Navy Base, n'est-ce pas? And you all stay the night! Consider yourselves lucky! I would love to walk the beaches of Hawaii; swim in the clear waters of the small coves. However, it would matter not for any of you… not a single one of you will be staying at a Military Resort."

"Why not?" asked Revlon.

"Because, mademoiselle, none of us exist. We have no name, no military ID card, no rank, and no way to verify our identification! There will most likely be a ship a few miles from the island; you'll land there and be quarantined from the crew as a classified group so that you do not have the chance to create drama! You'll have Enlisted rack bunks to sleep on, followed by a poor night's sleep. You'll be awakened at an odd hour in the middle of the next night and told to fly home, weary eyed, non? C'est la vie."

Bill frowned. "The Cajun swamp snake makes a point, y'all. Just because the aliens are public, that doesn't mean squat. The government won't want us followed back to the Ford. They won't want the media to track us or for us to talk to anyone about our classified mission. They would want to keep us separate from everyone else, even for our own safety. Besides, we can't prove we're military pilots so we have to stay where we're told and do as we're ordered until we return to the Ford."

"Guys, like Gambit said, if you'd paid attention during the briefing, you'd know all of this already. Not to mention, we'll be watched closely so we don't sneak off the ship like Gambit and Miyu, heh."

"I reckon I was doing my best," Bill replied with a chuckle. "A'ite, we're actually in for a long, quiet ride. We're far enough out that the Coast Guard can probably listen in on our communications. Let's cut the chatter for now, boys and girls. We're going to refuel. Revlon, you go first with the first Learjet. Then Doom'll go in unison to the second Learjet. Finally, Tailhook and I will go. The Arwings will take up a protective formation in echelon on either side of the KC-135; Navy pilots refuel under the port wing pod, Tailhook and both Learjets will refuel beneath the starboard wing pod. Arwings, stay beneath the stratotanker, out of sight."

Gambit grinned a bit and said, "Tailhook, the KC-135 flies out of Hickam Air Force Base, 154th Wing. Did you want to stay there, tonight, mon ami? Perhaps you can compare notes for thrust vectoring, since they fly the Raptor out of that base. Don't worry, though, your F-35 can take the F-15 Strike Eagle some of their plebes still fly."

Tailhook remained silent. After a moment, Bill chuckled. "They're retiring that thing later this year. _Okay_ – radio silence."

* * *

_Three a.m._

**Dust swirled up around the Arwings as they** connected with the surface pad above 'The Ranch'. A quarter acre of land began to descend into the ground, including the dirt and grass. After a moment, the large elevator stopped. Laid out before the two fighters was an underground bunker. Two large trucks backed up to the Arwings and a small team of men worked diligently to elevate the two fighters using special equipment. They were moved onto a flat bed truck and driven forward. Behind them, the elevator lifted back to its original position. The trucks drove down a metallic ramp then turned right. In a matter of minutes, the Great Fox Dreadnought ship came into view, bathed in floodlights. A hole on the hull was covered with mesh and was bathed in additional, brighter lighting.

In the front of the ship, a ramp was extended down to the deck. The trucks stopped about a hundred feet from the ramp. The drivers got out and retrieved rolling staircases. The small team worked like a well-oiled machine quickly bringing the stairs up against the side of the Arwings. Miyu opened her canopy, followed by Gambit. He descended the stairs then approached Miyu, placing a hand at the small of her back, despite odd looks from the small company of workers.

She up-nodded to the large ship. "I guess you'll be meeting ROB/NUS64; it would be easier to just call him Rob. That science team will be staying in our old quarters in The Ranch and working with Slippy and Beltino to patch up this ship, rebuild an Arwing and modify our weapon's system. From what I've overheard, each one of those scientists are getting paid more money than they could ever spend. I'm thinking this is the most help we've ever received from anyone before. I'm curious about what the weapon will be like and how it'll help us against Andross."

"Dunno, ma chère, but _I'm_ curious as to what tomorrow will be like in Washington DC. I've never met the President before, after all. So what's ROB like and why wasn't he on the carrier with us?"

"Because he's just a robot pilot for Great Fox. However, he has a very sarcastic personality at times. He's nothing to worry about." She led him up the ramp and into the Great Fox's flight deck. There were Land Master tanks lined on the wall. Parts and pieces collected from Krystal's Arwing, including the original ejection pod and control systems sat on display.

"Not much left," he murmured, shaking his head at the labeled pieces that were set up in a grid all around the largest part – the cockpit section. Jules glanced back at her and asked, "How does a robot have _any_ sort of personality?"

She shrugged. "I don't know – he just does. It's not completely uncommon for our androids to display some sort of personality traits in Lylat. It's not a popular practice, but I've even heard of people using robots as replacements for sexual…" She paused, seeing his hands go up.

"Say no more, ma chatte – I've just pictured 'Gigolo Joe' from the Steven Spielberg movie, A.I.; it was a disturbing mental image, I assure you. I can only wonder what type of animal Jude Law would be on your home world." He waved his hands and shook his head. "Never mind… I know you've not seen the movie. Perhaps sometime in the future, non? For now, I'm tired of being cooped up in that cockpit for so many hours on end. It's nice to stretch my legs – show me your ship, s'il vous plait."

Miyu nodded to his words and grinned. "As taboo as you think it is for some people to be attracted to robots, it's equally taboo for you and I to be attracted to one another." She stopped abruptly, blinked and canted her head a bit. She sniffed at the air and frowned. "What in the…?" The lynx turned about then walked across the flight deck. At the far end was a small grayish brown creature with black stripes. It had black fur masking its face and, in its tiny little lithe-fingered paws, it held a piece of metal probably belonging in the pile from Krystal's Arwing remains. It stood up on its hind legs and its tiny nose twitched, sniffing. It dropped the shiny metal object and scampered towards the exit, down the ramp and across the metallic base deck. She turned to Gambit, eyes wide with confusion and exclaimed, "What was that?!"

He shrugged as though unsurprised. "Chaoui." He paused then nodded with a chuckle; the human pilot rolled his right hand, looking for the proper English word. He then snapped his fingers and said, "A _sly _raccoon, chère. They're clever little rascals and," he knelt down, picking up the shiny metal object. "Have no compunction about _stealing_ things. The shinier, the better." He placed the small computer component into her palm and grinned. "Tiny lil' thing; hardly th' size une piaster." He stuffed his hands into his pockets but looked weary. "I dun' wanna go to bed with stiff legs, although I do want fais do-do. Do you, chère? Alors pas."

"You're obviously tired, because your dialect is getting thicker, Jules."

He chuckled and shook his head with a slight shrug. "Mo chagren, ma chère. Yes, I'm tired. Quo' faire? Because we jus' flew a long-damn-way. A'right, then…" He drew out his left hand and made a sweeping motion away from the ramp leading out of the Great Fox flight deck. "Allons! I'll follow you, amour." His left hand moved to the small of her back and they crossed to the other end of the deck. Miyu deposited the small dollar-bill sized computer piece back with the rest of the parts then they headed towards a hallway leading into the main body of Great Fox.

"I wonder how that little animal got in here?"

"Th' raccoon? That's what they do, chère, it makes no sense en _colère _or to question such provocation; those things get in undetected even in a secure government installation such as this. Is that cause for alarm? Alors pas – of course not! Now. Lead the way – I look forward to seein' how yaw'll live and how different it is from how we live. It makes me feel like I know ya' more." He smiled at her and she smiled back.

* * *

_Shortly before dawn, Washington DC…_

**John Fitzgerald folded his hands**. The Eisenhower Executive Office Building was quiet at this hour. The senator had the distinctive trait of being one of few Washington Senators to have this job. The man leaned back in his chair, staring at the scientist with a frown. "I've worked in this building for a while, son. I've recently changed my outlook on life – I went from running things on the inside to running things on the outside. You might say this is my transitional period. I'm a senator who reports to work here in this grand old mansion because of what I do for the president. It's as complicated to understand as _your_ little explanation. I can't be expected to follow this stuff without a background in your field. Let's start with the basics, shall we?"

The thirty-two year old science engineer, a leading quantum physicist, from California, was now looking uncomfortable and jetlagged. "Okay," said the man to Fitzgerald, lifting his hands up to gesture and use body language to help emphasize his points. "Typical lasers travel at one hundred eighty-six thousand miles per second. You see them on earth because the beam of light refracts off of dust particles, or whatever happens to be in the air. But the laser we're talking about firing into space would not be seen. However, getting the power source up there to fire this thing from a satellite… you're asking us to shoot something incredibly powerful at incoming enemies from a satellite grid around the globe."

"Why not build one on the moon? Then you could put a power source wherever you need it, since it has to be so big."

The scientist snapped his fingers. "That's theoretically possible but if the moon isn't in the right place at the right time, it wouldn't protect us properly. Using satellites is difficult because those things would shatter from low-power return fire."

John ran a hand through his hair. "So why are the aliens shooting laser bolts at one another with ease? What kind of power supplies are _they_ using?"

"It's different," replied the science officer. "They're not shooting lasers. They're shooting globs of plasma-like energy. The way a bit of water, in micro-gravity environments, turns into spheres… their energy globs take a shape but remain lit and bright from the energy within the glob. It moves forward and, without an atmosphere, continues to move forward with nothing to change its course or shape. They're not shooting lasers. Even the aliens have called them 'blasters'. It's a different technology all together."

"What's our best course of defense, Star Fox aside, as it stands?" asked John.

"Well, Mister Fitzgerald, the Navy has the most powerful rail guns in existence. If the shielding systems of the enemy are designed to absorb the raw power of an energy attack then they'll also provide resistance to a kinetic energy attack… but that won't stop the kinetic round all together, either. Conventional means of attacking enemy targets isn't out of the question."

"How versed are you with the alien technology?"

"I'm _not_ versed – I simply understand the _theory_ of its use. If I may, Mister F., why am I here?"

"You're going to Wyoming to join the Research and Development team. I want you to study it and understand it then bring it back to DARPA for the United States to use. Just imagine if Star Fox was killed in action? Who would we have to defend humanity? Earth has to stand up for itself and this is simply a means to prepare for a Plan B situation."

"So you want me to work as a covert…?"

"No," John said with a shake of his head. "You'll work _with_ them but they will not realize that you're there to study the alien technology in order to bring it back to us. I'm not asking you to take their currently existing gear – I'm asking you to learn how to build your own blasters and shields from scratch. Each one of those scientists was carefully investigated by a telepath to ensure that they wouldn't, in a sense, steal the technology. Your job it to work with them, help them and do what it takes to save Earth – however, your job is also to understand it, be able to reverse engineer it… and be able to replicate it affordably and make it run stable in any environment. Soldiers do not need laser guns that blow up in their hands."

"Again, sir, with all due respect… the hand guns used by the Star Fox team aliens do not consist of laser technology. That's why they're not walking around with fusion power packs the size of a cell phone. That would be impossible to create with our current technology anyhow. They shoot some sort of plasma-like energy wad. Due to the barrel shape, it appears to be a bolt of bright light and the energy is phased in a way we don't yet understand… but it's _not_ a laser. Also, the energy discharge they fire does not travel at one hundred eighty-six thousand miles per second. It's different technology, sir."

"Needless to say, I've got you in and you've not been interviewed by the telepathic team member – she's out in the Pacific somewhere. I'm going to take you to Regean National myself. You fly out to Wyoming now – your flight leaves in two hours. Humanity needs this technology in order to move on to the next stage. What if Star Fox defeats this… Andross character… and they leave… but a few years later, another alien visitor comes through? Who'll protect us from _that_ threat? We can only count on ourselves at that point. Now that we _know_ aliens exist, we have to learn how to fend for ourselves incase of an emergency situation in the future. Do what I'm paying you to do. I expect results in a very short time."

"Yes, sir, Mister Fitzgerald." He left the office and was escorted out by a night guard. Meanwhile, John Fitzgerald went for his coat, his car keys and the flight itinerary he'd secured for his 'inside man' in order to get the scientist out to Wyoming…

* * *

**Slippy Toad rubbed his eyes, **heading into The Ranch. One of his new collogues, Theodore Rancor Junior, was explaining the effectiveness of an Antimatter Bomb. "One gram," said Ted Rancor, "would product one hundred eighty terajoules of energy. That's forty-three kilotons of TNT, about three times more than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, Japan back in the mid forties. It could also power an entire city for an extensive amount of time."

"And how would you contain it, let alone produce it," asked Slippy, recalling to himself that he'd read about the attack on Japan at some point during his four month stay on Earth. "Because with that much energy, just having a few grams would be enough to send Andross anywhere we wanted. Why doesn't Earth have that sort of technology yet?"

"The particle accelerators necessary to create antimatter are nowhere near the efficiency and cost effectiveness to produce such a thing. Several picograms costs over twenty million; to make one full gram, it could cost one hundred _quadrillion_ dollars and take two billion _years_ to produce. We'll need newer, more technologically advanced equipment to produce a single gram in such a short amount of time."

Toad nodded. "But how would you contain it before launching it?"

"An electromagnetic field would contain the antimatter until it was put where it was needed. We would shut down the electromagnetic field from a distance and set off the bomb by detonating it with matter. Figuring out how to create Antimatter in so much quantity in such a short time is a little beyond our ability – the math involved in figuring out that sort of thing… let's just say it's beyond the ability of most. I was actually hoping your kind would have a different approach to the situation. I know how to contain it – I don't know how to collect a gram."

"T-totally understand," replied the frog. "But I'm afraid we don't have a particle collector powerful enough to extract a gram of Antimatter, Ted."

"The reason I brought it up is because I think you do have the means to collect it." Theodore grinned somewhat. "When you guys came here through that wormhole, the one that was artificially created on your side of the galaxy, you'd have to pass through a lot of soup. That is to say, you'd have to slip beneath linear time and space to arrive at your destination in such a short amount of time. The electromagnetic field that protects your ship from beneath the universe is the same theory in which I propose to contain antimatter – however it may be possible to somehow create an electromagnetic net just beyond the reach of your shields using another shield generator that's designed to have a hyper focused shielding zone just beyond the tip of your cruiser's wings. Then, as you go through the wormhole, you can collect antimatter on your way through. If done correctly, a great deal can be captured, contained and released when the time is right to destroy something as large as that corebase."

Toad brought a hand beneath his mouth, rubbing against his broad, chubby jawline. "You know, that's theoretically possible. But our ship cannot go through a wormhole on a whim. We need to enter a gate opened and maintained by a gate station. When we defeated the Aparoid homeworld, we were stuck on their side for quite some time – a few days. Corneria's battle fleet came through the gate with us and the Aparoids destroyed eighty percent of them in a short time. But the remaining twenty percent were partially comprised of science vessels tasked with getting everyone home. They set up a temporary one-use-gate system and everyone hurried through."

"What happened after that?" asked the human scientist as the two walked side by side through the underground bunker.

"A lot, actually. In the end, StarFox bought two ships. One was a used dreadnought style cruiser, which is now here with us on Earth. It was gutted and refitted completely for our needs but the team that put it back together did a less-than-sterling job. The other ship was ordered brand new and is going to take about a year and a half to build f-f-from scratch. However, no one in Lylat has heard from us in almost five months. They probably think we're dead."

"That's awkward," murmured Theodore. "Corneria didn't even send reinforcements to help or to otherwise ensure you guys are okay?"

Slippy shrugged then brought a hand up to touch the side of his head to adjust the translator in his ear. "Save for Fay and Miyu, Star Fox is a mercenary team. So far as Corneria knows, they have two MIA pilots and have no choice but to stay their course in a matter of speaking. I'm kinda' glad my dad is here with me. I wouldn't want him to worry or th-th-think his only son is dead, y'know?" Slippy sighed. "I'm sure the General regrets having hired us. He was a very, very close friend of Fox's father. He's probably worried about Fox, as the only surviving son of his deceased friend. I mean, you know, the Peppers and the McClouds were friends – both families knew each other for a long time. It's complicated."

"How are you guys planning to get home?"

"There are two ways," said Toad. "One, my father and I construct a gate. The problem is, if we leave it in Earth's care, that could turn into drama later. No offense."

"None taken – the other way home is…?"

The amphibian lifted both hands as they rounded a corner together, nearing the sleeping quarters, recently refitted and expanded to accommodate the science team personnel. "The other way is… we gather some resources and make a lot of fuel cells. Then we max out our engines and… we'll be back to Lylat in nearly three months. Right around ten and-a-half weeks. The problem with that is, if we don't destroy Andross' core base, we have to take it and his remaining soldiers with us. And then keeping Andross prisoner the whole time would be another list of challenges. If we're somehow lucky enough to destroy him, I doubt we'd be able to take down ALL of his forces… so whatever pilots survived the destruction of the corebase would have to land their fighter on the GreatFox and stay as a prisoner for the whole ride home… or if we can salvage enough of the core base to use as a jail… oh I don't know. L-l-l-let's just see what happens, r-r-right?"

* * *

**Fox McCloud paced in front of the cell bars.** Behind him, Krystal sat quietly in her chair, staring through her mate at the round cylindrical metal poles of the jail. Neither spoke. On Fox's next pass back, he ran his paw over the collection of bars, creating a soft, rhythmic cadence of sound. He paused abruptly, turned to the bars and closed his paws around them tightly and shouted, "I'm READY to TALK!"

Caiman slinked back against the concrete wall, adjacent to the tiny bunk jutting out of the bulkhead to his right. "Andross would rather that I give my life than to tell you anything at all."

Krystal said, "And yet, as the last ship to be shot down, you ejected – I do believe that you _wanted_ to live… Caiman was it? Despite your intent to honorably die for your leader, some part of you had to make the decision to reach for the ejection switch."

The vulpine pilot tilted his head, furrowing his brows at the lizard as if confused. "But Andross is going home in a body bag and you're going home as a prisoner of war to be set free on Venom upon our return. So how the hell does giving your life for your crappy leader do anything for you? Why do you feel like you owe him anything? Caiman, do you remember Area-6?"

"Of course I do," he muttered.

A smile touched McCloud's muzzle. "You were a Wing Commander at the edge of the sector, as far away from Venom as possible. We cooked all your buddies but only 'disabled' _your_ ship. I could have blown you out of the stars."

"You weren't concerned with me; you had bigger fish to fry. So you missed my ship and moved on – you trying to say you spared my life? How do you figure, McCloud? I survived by chance – by providence, not because you spared me like some merciful valiant hero! Heck, I'm surprised you remembered that moment so clearly. That was… a decade ago."

"It was," said McCloud with a nod. "I conferred with ROB back at our base. He has the incident recorded on his files. I searched his databanks to see if your name was in it… surprise. He reminded me of the whole thing. Besides, it was Falco that opened fire on your squadron – not me. But that's neither here nor there; I want answers as to what Andross is doing in this system."

"Lylat is far too organized," said the lizard. "The alliance of federation planets makes outright attack very difficult. Venom against… oh, let's see… Corneria, Katina, Fichina, Fortuna, Sauria, Papetoon, Aquas, Zoness… not possible. Titania is empty, Macbeth is hollow and covered with unionized workers who would put up quite a fight in this day and age… then they'd receive help from the federation of Lylat. I'm thinking we have no chance against so many worlds. So Andross enlisted a group of warriors and we came here. Once Andross is successful in toppling Earth, he'd revive his nephew and have a proper training ground with which to teach the heir to the throne of the Venom Empire. Once Andrew was _properly_ instructed on how to fight… and how to lead… and how to do… anything more than mope… well… you figure it out."

Krystal shook her head. "He'd use Earth as slave labor then incorporate their numbers into his ranks by giving them technology and teaching them that they're on the same side… and convincing them the way he manipulated the reptiles of Venom and the way he nearly manipulated the SharpClaws of Sauria into joining him. Then, he and his new 'allies' would come back to Lylat in the future… and wage war against it with several billion newly recruited human soldiers." She stood up with a wince and turned to Fox. "Doctor Andross has many layers. It's sad because he wanted to be more than just a dictator but…"

Fox sneered at the notion that Andross could be anything else. He finished her sentence. "…But in the end, that's all he ever amounted to… a crappy dictator. A lunatic murderous madman. He's insane and I'll take him down myself."

Krystal grew quiet out of respect for her mate. "Very well."

The vulpine pilot glared at Caiman. "I bet you didn't realize that Krystal was telepathic, did you? I also bet you didn't know that we already found out that you guys have been getting help from humans. She got pretty close one time when you guys were escorting one back to Earth. We know more about your operation than you think. And, once again, Andross is going to get his ass handed to him." Fox walked away from the brig and left the detention area.

The little blue vixen shook her head with her eyes shut. "You have to understand that we've been quite cooped up for the last several months. We're tired; we want to end this situation and go home. Surely you must have something at home, on Venom, that you miss dearly, Caiman."

He stood up but stayed away from the bars. "You know that Andross is trying to help things on Venom? I could tell you knew something… why didn't you tell your boyfriend that Andross _does_ have many good intentions? Is Fox McCloud afraid of the truth?"

She frowned, glancing at the floor. "He's not ready to hear it just yet. It's a painful subject for Fox. I respect and love him very deeply and, so, I do not wish to throw that sort of thing into Fox's face. Besides… in the end, Andross never followed through with his word to restore Venom. I only know that he'd made such promises because I've been near enough to him to learn of it in the past. Venom is still an industrial wasteland and the remains of a post apocalyptic, dying civilization stricken with poverty and disease. He did nothing to help in the end."

Caiman approached the bars reluctantly and glanced about furtively. "We're not under surveillance, are we?"

"No. It's just us," she assured him.

The lizard licked his lips. "I got back into Andross' good graces by volunteering to run a mission to Titania not too long ago. My job was to properly hide an underground lab located beneath those barren wastelands. It was the test stage for an object of immense power capable of restoring Venom. Andross never got to test it on Titania as he'd intended to do… so it was hidden there. I only know because I was supposed to leave no trace of his research at the lab. He personally hid the device. But I was curious about the research and looked through the lab computers before vaporizing the facility as per his orders… He wanted Venom to become more beautiful and green and perfect than Corneria, because Cornerians didn't deserve to have such a world of heaven. It was to help the people of Venom AND to bring the egotistical Cornerians down a peg or two."

"Again, he didn't make due on his promises, now did he?"

"I read the research," grumbled Caiman. "I know it exists and I think it will work. However, Andross was pushed into desperate measures. He had to flee for a while… and Andrew, thinking his uncle was dead, took over Venom's remaining forces. Upon Andross' return, he rescued his nephew from the smoldering wreckage on Fortuna, absconded to Venom and organized a group of warriors in secrecy. Andrew was delivered to a science outpost on Fichina because of his injuries. They transferred him to a science team operating on the Gate Station, where we would need to pick him up before leaving Lylat. At any rate, Andross took us to the edge of the Meteo asteroid belt where he had a hidden corebase set up to look like an asteroid. It was fully stocked with ships and weapons and supplies. We cloaked it, brought it to the Area-6 sector and came here. When we return to Lylat, you can be sure that he'll rescue Venom and restore its ecology system."

"Why wouldn't he have done that before coming to Earth?"

"Because!" announced Caiman. "If he did that then left, Corneria would try and take the credit without Addross not around to dispute it! They would try to convince the reptilian people that THEY are the ones who saved Venom! Then they would try to make Venom their allies! It just isn't meant to be. Don't you know anything about how Venom became the way it did?"

"I'm from another system; I'm not aware of the history, Caiman."

He sighed and nodded, slumping onto the bunk. "Titania was a planet full of furred people, just like Corneria. We were at war – the planets are very close to one another. They wiped one another out. The lizards of Venom were strong enough, due to our cold-blooded bodies, to endure the destruction of our home planet's environmental balance. All that remained was skeletons of our once powerful cities. Meanwhile, we managed to wipe Titania off the map – leaving endless miles of DUST. Fortunately for its people, they managed to escape their planet. The air is breathable now… but for quite some time, you couldn't even take a breath there without dying from something nasty. The inhabitants migrated to Katina and Corneria. Didn't Fox ever tell you about his _first_ girlfriend, Fara Phoenix? Her ancestors were from Titania… Fennecs… desert foxes. There were certainly more than just foxes on Titania but… that doesn't matter. Corneria's modern population is soiled with the blood of Venom's ancient foes. And, so, you see… many of Corneria and Katina's ancestors came from the world we once saw as our mortal enemies. Nothing has changed – Lizards still hate furres. However, we're willing to accept help from those who defect, like Wolf O'Donnell, because when they see our side of things… they're only too happy to help."

"And what of the mandrills and apes that help Venom and Andross?"

"Their species didn't originate from Titania – they were never our enemies to begin with. Mostly vulpine, canine and feline types came from Titania and they intermingled with other vulpine, canine and feline peoples living on Corneria and Katina at the time of this ancient war. In the end, Corneria and Katina owe its modern technology prowess to the defeated Titanians who fled their wasteland of a planet after we leveled it. In honesty, neither side truly won – we successfully wiped one another out. As I said before… we were a persistent race. Meanwhile, Titanians decided to stay as far from Venom as possible. In order to maintain peace, they opted to do away with major forms of technology... but after a few generations, it came back to full use again. So, the way my race sees it... Cornerians are dangerous again.

"We survived the ruin of Venom. However, without knowledge and an infrastructure, we were reduced to a very simple race, starting from scratch so far as technology was concerned. But our soil was no longer fertile. Millions starved over the next two hundred years. Meanwhile, on Corneria, the Titania survivors refused to explain to the current civilization how quantum mechanics worked or how to build space ships right away. Those people enjoyed a gradual technology renascence that re-evolved back into its modern state. No one starved. No one struggled, there. No… Corneria enjoyed their peace with only minor stints between localized nations for a short time. It wasn't until Andross was exiled from that worthless planet…"

"Go on," she said in a soft tone. "Please, I wish to understand."

"When Andross was exiled, he was picked up by a gang of thugs named Wolf O'Donnell and Leon Powalski. Leon was raised on Katina but descended from Venom – his family was living on Titania during the initial migration. Perhaps they were _house slaves_, or maybe they were _defectors_ – I wouldn't know. Either way, he's a reptile so he's okay by me. Those two picked up Doctor Andross and he bartered with them. Having been exiled, he was criminal scum, like those two. They brought him to Venom because Corneria had no interest in being allies with the likes of poverty-stricken lizards… again, proof of that contemptible Cornerian ego. Once Andross was here, he was smart enough to make his way down into the underground sections of the ancient war ruins. There, he found libraries and impressive proof that our race was once a proud planet of warriors.

"Our species was supreme and he built a translator to learn our old written language. He then learned the technological ways of our ancestors and rebuilt the civilization in a short time. He resurrected our economy and gave us lives, homes for each family… and he gave us a purpose. He didn't _manipulate_ us into fighting Lylat… no, he gave us the means with which to fight against Lylat and we thanked him by making him our leader. And the device on Titania exists. Trust me, it's there somewhere. It would blow your silly boyfriend's mind to know that Doctor Andross was also a scientist who wanted to help make life better for millions upon millions of people. Fox McCloud could never handle that truth – it's too much for his tiny little egotistical Cornerian head."

Krystal folded her paws, placing them into her lap. "So you trust me because I'm not from Corneria?" She tilted her head and frowned. "How sad it is that you're so… racist."

"Doctor Andross was extreme. He was very aggressive in his pursuit of perfection because he was one man, alone, fighting to make a better system. The bio-weapon on Lylat's central star? That was a test to see if he could create a life form to draw the energy of the sun and provide a way to harvest that energy to create unlimited power for Venom. The being was alive, all right… however Andross wasn't able to find a way to work with it when war broke out… so he had to abandon his research with it… and it became violent and angry and alone… and, of course, Star Fox destroyed it before they could even learn anything about it. He created life, they killed it. Cornerians are nothing more than educated _savages_. However…" Caiman trailed off, fidgeting with a frown.

She wheeled herself closer to the bars. "Go on… your emotions are growing too cloudy to read the rest from your mind. What happened?"

"Later research indicated that the life form was spending fuel from within the star to sustain itself… like placing an overweight person in an auditorium full of their favorite food. It would take a long time, but eventually they would consume everything until there was nothing left. From what I understand, Doctor Andross recreated this experiment a second time only to come to that horrific conclusion… So yes, in the end… Star Fox saved Lylat by destroying the life form on the central star. But it's still sad that they didn't research it first… they saw it was alive and rushed to kill it without asking questions, which is a true show of their character." Caiman blinked, seeing the blank expression on Krystal's face. He then asked, "What?"

She blinked back to reality. "I was… just… thinking. Adding up pieces to the puzzle is more like it. Years ago, Andross wound up on Cerinia and my people helped him. He was gravely injured and promised us an exchange – our help to save his life from his mortal wounds… and in return, he would help us solve our energy crisis by providing us with an unlimited supply of energy from the heart of our system."

Caiman continued to fidget. "What happened?"

"I was on an exploratory sabbatical when a global emergency was announced. Andross fled Cerinia and I changed course to pursue him. Meanwhile, scientists from my world rushed towards the sun to try and save it because it was growing into an enormous red giant. But, all at once, it shrank and went supernova. Cerinia was doomed. All that's left of our star is a tiny black ball… a rotted husk. I never knew what happened but I chased Andross' warp signature wake until I arrived in the Lylat System. I lost the trail but was distracted by a distress beacon. I spent a few weeks on Sauria, helping the locals; they were under attack by a tyrant named Scales. Shortly after crossing paths with that maniac, I was shocked to bump into Andross… albeit a _gravely injured_ Andross, far worse off than when he first showed up on Cerinia."

Caiman knew nothing of Andross' whereabouts after the Lylat Wars. "Did you confront him?"

"Actually, he captured me. He ambushed me and shoved me into a reverse polarity tractor beam that knocked me into a forcefield. From there, I was transferred into a machine he used to draw life force energy from my body, slowly draining me in order to sustain himself. He did this so that he could heal more quickly. In retrospect, I believe that what he did to Cerinia was not intentional… however, it's difficult to swallow."

"You… forgive him?" asked Caiman.

"He was trying to help our race. By the time they realized that his mistake was a lethal one, my people probably tried to banish him. But everything was too late. The damage was done and beyond repair. I don't know how many survivors are in existence but… so far as I know… my race is doomed. But… blaming Andross and hating him does nothing to bring back my world and my family. It's a sad tragedy at best. How do you know the device on Titania won't destroy Venom the way he destroyed Cerinia?"

Caiman swallowed. "Because… it has nothing to do with the sun. It's a self-powered device that reverts atmospheric conditions by causing a chemical reaction that will purify the toxic air and waters of that planet. Every great artist has many failures before they create a masterpiece. So if you're able to forgive Andross for the accidental death of possible billions… then why can't Fox McCloud forgive him for the death of two people? You see? Your race is far more mature than any Cornerian… why waste your time with them?"

"Against by better professional judgment, I've chosen to fall in love with Fox." She shook her head slowly. "He's a good man. Also, he was a small child when his mother was taken from him. All he had left was his father… and his father died on Venom. It was war. My situation was caused from an accident. Perhaps, in the future, I will look into your claims of this miracle device on Titania. For now, though, it's beyond my time, place or grasp. And I refuse to bring this up to Fox because Andross' atrocities are still fresh to him. Why did you tell me this, Caiman?"

"You're telepathic anyhow. Besides, I wanted to prove that Doctor Andross isn't as 'evil' as Star Fox would like everyone to believe. He just has an aggressive and misunderstood way of doing things to better himself, his science and the people that his science would affect the most."

She nodded slowly. "I understand. Can you tell me what nation your human ally is from?"

"I don't know squat about Earth. All I know is that he's from the planet and we need translators to talk to him. Also, Andross will go out of his way to spare his people and its nation when he overruns Earth. Trust me, it's for their own good. He's doing them a huge favor."

"Hardly," she snorted. "Enjoy your cell, Caiman. Thank you for your honesty. In the future, I'll take your words into consideration and do what I'm able to enlist help to find that device. If Andross isn't able to use it to save Venom, I'll consider a way to have it used for your people. Agreed? But know that I'll have someone look at it first to make sure that it won't _destroy_ Venom by accident. One too many times has Andross' erroneous experiments gone awry."

"Ask for the help of Wolf and Leon and whoever else they now work with. They would help you find it."

Krystal paused to remember Star Wolf and their newer third member, Panther. "Perhaps… but it might be better if I simply ask my true friends for help. Star Fox is more than capable. I think you judge them because you misunderstand them, as much as they misunderstand you." She slowly turned the wheeling chair away from the brig. "A human Marine will be in after I leave. They'll keep an eye on you so do not misbehave. They'll feed you and treat you fairly. They have a convention standard – a set of rules that they abide by to ensure fairness to prisoners. I expect no different in treatment towards you." She wheeled away from him. "Thank you for the conversation. I learned a great deal of things and…" she paused at the doorway. "I feel as though I'm able to put some of my own personal questions to rest. I appreciate you taking the time to speak with me." She left the room. Moments later, a marine entered the room, shut the door and sat down at a desk not far from Caiman's cell.

* * *

A/N: _Okay, maybe just oooone more. Next up, Chapter 17: "A Call to Arms" which I intended to put as part of this chapter. However, I kinda' had fun with the dialogues. This was the "slow, boring, learning chapter." It happens in every story at some point. _

_SO! What did we learn in this chapter? Well, for starters, Andross just ordered the attack on Earth to begin in 4 days. Next, we learned that the Pentagon's golden child, DARPA, is going to be inserting a scientist that was never scanned by Krystal, so that they can study the alien technology because they feel it's in their best interest for self preservation as a race. _

_After that, we learned that Slippy was given an idea on a way to take down the Core Base. Will he be able to implement it later in the story? _

_Finally, we learned where Krystal got her information about the device on Titania that she talks about in StarFox Command, the DS Game. We also learn why she defends Andross and, out of anger, accuses Fox of only hating Andross because Andross allegedly killed James McCloud personally. At the very least, he's allegedly to blame for the direct involvement in the death of James McCloud. Boy Krystal sure was bitter during that game, wasn't she?! _

_Okay, so here's your long, boring, "Tie up loose ends by throwing too much information at you" chapter. I'll make it up to you by giving you two great things in the next update! One, more romance! Gambit and Miyu, as well as Fox and Krystal snuggly time. AND, of course, I'll begin the ALL OUT WAR between Venom and Earth! It's about time for that, huh? Long overdue, right? Or, as Andross says, hitting the enemy with a preemptive strike before they can preemptively strike against him! The clock is ticking! _


	11. Chapter 17 by itself

A/N: _I wrote this chapter November 9__th__, 2009. Why didn't I post it? I wanted to add a few lines or something… then got involved in Reflections of Marcus McCloud. Amusingly enough, I like the way the last chapter of THIS story ties into the game series way more than Reflections ties into it. LOL. Either way, I liked SF: Command because I'm a fan of various outcomes, alternative or otherwise parallel universes and what-have-you. Okay so I was sick the other day and just laid in bed alllll day. I re-read this whole story for fun and ENJOYED it. But LORD do I have a lot of spelling mistakes and BOY do I NOT edit this story before posting. I laughed when Watson was yelling at Miyu, mixing his lecture with a pep-talk, and said "When the Admiral of the navy gave me this ship, I felt INVISIBLE." Really? Invisible, huh? No one could see him? LMAO. I mean WOW… talk about a lot of editorial needs. You're supposed to do several hours of editing and re-reading for every hour you spent writing the material. You change the way things are worded in narration and double-check the way words are typed. Then come back later with fresh eyes and do it again. Sheesh. Okay so… Regardless of liking SF: Command, I'm a huge Fox and Krystal fan. I'm glad multiple endings of that game portray Fox with her. I know a lot of people hated it because Krystal was so nasty to Fox but… a woman scorned will take things pretty personally at times. ANYHOW. Let's tie up some loose ends before things get crazy. _

_ALSO! I have "deleted scenes" available by email for those that wish to see what happen with Jules and Miyu in Tokyo and, later, on the GreatFox before they fly to DC together. Finally, Krystal will be well enough to fly in G-defused fighters very, very soon.

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_

Chapter -17-  
"A Call to Arms"

**"Okay, now we're going to rinse out the fluoride."** Jackie Harrison entered the Dental Office and nodded to the man that just spoke then turned her attention to Krystal. The blue-furred vixen looked uncomfortable but, in consideration of what she'd been through as of late, Harrison could easily tell that Krystal was adjusting admirably.

She watched as the telepathic alien leaned forward towards the little sink attached to the side of the dental chair. The agent's eyes cut back to the dental officer. It was no secret that the dentist pulled double duty as the secondary ship's physician. "Clean bill of health, Doc?"

The dentist nodded to Harrison with a thin smile. "Actually, I also looked over her abdominal scar before starting on her teeth. Now that the fur is just starting to grow back, she's beginning to show signs of a seroma; it's a collection of serous fluid. I used a hand pump with a needle on the end to drain it out. Other than that, her abdominal muscle tissue is healing well and the entry-point wound on her lower back is looking ten times better than the exit wound section. The doctor and I have been monitoring Krystal's healing process closely and have been working with her through her physical therapy sessions, Agent Harrison. Luckily, so far as dentistry is concerned, Fay, Fox, Krystal and Peppy have outstanding teeth. I'm not sure about the other alien, the bird one… I've not seen him in here and… I can't imagine what the inside of his 'beak' looks like; my office is not prepared for that sort of anatomy. Humorously enough, I know more about birds than our ship's physician – to him, the term 'clutch' is something in a stick-shift vehicle… not that the avian pilot would lay eggs, himself, but… I'm just saying."

Krystal swished a bit of water about in her muzzle then spit it into the small sink and turned towards the two humans. "I once asked Falco about his mother, Kestrel Lombardi. We spoke for a little while about her and, at one point, he mentioned that she was pregnant but had a miscarriage. It was one of the earliest memories he had of her before she passed away due to serious illness. From what I can understand, Falco's avian race has several important commonalities with mammal races. In fact, I do believe he's equipped to mate with other Cornerians and that the bone-make of his beak is flexible in a way that makes him far different than avian creatures of _this_ planet."

The dentist drew off white gloves, tossed them in the trash then ran his fingers back through his hair. "Kestrel? She was a _falcon_ named _Kestrel_?" He furrowed his brows then shook his head. "I swear if I wasn't your physician, Krystal, I would say that your people were nothing more than an elaborate hoax. There's _no_ possible way that you all have names relating to the English and Latin words for your genus as Earth animals. You're the only exception. I often wonder if our people haven't somehow met before and that's how we've had such an ancient fascination with anthropomorphic beings, like the Egyptian deity, Ra the sun god. After all, in one of his forms, Ra has the head of a falcon. It's thought that Ra traveled in a boat… perhaps he traveled in some sort of spaceship and the Egyptians referred to it as a boat, because both words are synonymous with 'vessel'. Perhaps Pyramids were built to honor aliens who, at some point, eventually stopped visiting to check up on us. Or maybe they were part of an elaborate low-tech guidance system to help with landing or direct communication. God only knows. The thing is… there are too many coincidences."

Harrison cocked her brows at the dentist. "Fred March, _where_ are you getting all this??" Other than Daniel Watson, the doctors were the only crewmembers using their names.

Krystal glanced over at Jackie and shrugged. "The first word to come to his mind is the _Internet_. Apparently people around the world are trying to come up with explanations for us and tie our appearance into their local historical relics to try and get a better understanding of Star Fox and our kind. Some theorize that Earth has been visited more than once. However, Corneria doesn't appear to be the culprit if such is true. I'll speak to Rob on the matter – he's back on the Great Fox dreadnought and will have access to clips and pieces of the oldest historical Lylat knowledge.

"I seriously doubt it was people from Lylat, however. They've only just achieved interstellar travel within the last seventy-five Cornerian years. The _oldest_ space-fairing Lylat ancestors were from Titania and, if you go back further, you can count the race that once inhabited Sauria. From what I understand, the people of Titania never made it beyond the system boundaries. The race of Sauria… Not much is known and it's not yet been proven whether or not they were interested in leaving their planet. Also, their appearance is nothing like _any_ Earth art I've ever seen. I can safely rule them out." She drew off the white paper bib and placed it into a nearby trashcan then eased off the table with Harrison's help.

"I heard you got poked and prodded today," said Jackie.

Krystal nodded, placing an arm around the agent's neck until her feet were on the deck. "I was. It was miserable but sitting up and bending over will be easier, now." She turned back to the dentist and said, "Doctor March, thank you for your time." The petite vixen offered a grin. "Again, you'd be quite surprised by how differently Cornerians care for their teeth. This concept of constant brushing seems archaic by comparison." She offered him a smile then went with Harrison to the wheeling chair just outside of the office.

Harrison held the chair still while Krystal sank into it and adjusted her tail. The agent turned her about in it and began to roll her down the deck. "You must hate this chair more than most – it's obvious that Navy vessels were _not_ designed to accommodate wheelchairs. When do you think you'll be flying again?"

"The doctor says two weeks or less so long as I'm in a G-Diffusing cockpit. At the rate I'm going, though, it _feels _like it'll be another month," said Krystal. "Fox, Falco and Fay have a patrol this afternoon. Lucky them. Do you know what we're doing today?"

"No, why?"

Krystal looked up at Harrison with a Cheshire smile. "We're going to rendezvous with ships from the Coast Guard – they've worked overnight hours to find all the Venom ships that were shot down by our escort fighters. Only a few managed to escape the Arwings. In fact, the Navy pilots managed to take down several fighters before the Arwings arrived on the scene. We're going to do what we did to the Flea class fighter – remove its shield generators. We're also going to remove the one installed on Fay's Arwing."

Jackie blinked in realization. "We're going to reverse engineer them and try to install them on human fighters?"

"That's the idea." They boarded a personnel elevator and its large metallic door eased shut. The vixen lifted a paw up, examining her red nails. They were starting to chip. "I need another color – what do you suggest?"

Jackie grinned broadly. "I'm glad to know, despite all the differences between humans and Cornerians and your race, that the females are still… feminine. And… how about we introduce ourselves to the female sailors aboard this ship… and see what colors they have onboard, hmm?"

"Sounds good, Jackie." The door swished open and Krystal relaxed in the chair, pushed along the deck by the human female. Three pilots came in the opposite direction – Krystal recognized all of them. She lifted a paw, causing Jackie to stop. Krystal reached for the youngest of the three males and said, "Tailhook, right?"

Wild Bill and Doomsday moved away from the younger pilot, being mindful of the space they had in the hallway. Tailhook took Krystal's paw, noting to himself how soft the padding was on her palm. "Yes, ma'am. You remembered me, huh?"

"I've heard the report, pilot." Krystal smiled at him. "I wanted to compliment you on your brilliance. You identified a design flaw for atmospheric conditions in two enemy fighters and utilized your surroundings to defeat them both. I am absolutely impressed by your piloting. You then managed to defeat a third without using missiles." She brought her other paw overtop of his, patting the backside of his hand. "Outstanding job." She gave his hand a gentle tug and he leaned forward. Krystal arched her back and leaned up, whispering into his ear. "Revlon is also quite impressed. However, she's a very professional career-minded pilot. My suggestion is to try something more traditional… be sweet to her. Attempting to impress a lady will only get you so far – she's a literary major with a secret adoration for poetry."

Tailhook's eyes widened, leaving Jackie, Doom and Bill curious. Krystal released his hand and offered him a knowing grin. He stood up straight and backed away from her chair. "Yes, ma'am. I appreciate the advice, Miss Krystal. Thank you for your compliment."

The vixen chuckled, shaking her head slowly. "You can be a rather genuine person at times. It's no wonder you've been branded as a flirt and go by the handle 'Tailhook'. Now, don't forget what I've told you."

He nodded with a suppressed smile and a gleam in his eye. "Ma'am, no ma'am. I'll do my absolute best."

Krystal glanced back at Jackie then announced, "Female on deck!!" Regardless of having had a conversation with the pilots, all three of them stiffened up, backs straight. The vixen glanced back up at Jackie again. "I'll never get tired of that." A wan smile was offered to the pilots then she said, "At ease… thank you for having a good sense of humor, boys." She paused then told Harrison, "To the bridge."

Wild Bill shook his head with a muffled chuckle and a grin. He liked that the aliens had a human-esque grasp on the concept of humor. The three pilots continued down the hall together, headed for the elevator.

Meanwhile, Jackie and Krystal went further down the hall with the chair. At the end, Krystal stood up while Jackie held the chair still. They parked the chair against the bulkhead to keep it out of the walkway then took the stairs up to the main bridge to relieve Fox so that he could tend to his scheduled patrol with Falco and Fay.

* * *

_Meanwhile…_ (_three days prior to the attack…_)

**Miyu sat up in bed and stretched.** She arched her back beyond the ability of a human being. The feline rubbed her face, pushing back her whiskers. She then brought her paws to her eyes. "How'd you sleep?" she asked aloud.

The soft white illumination of an external florescent flood lamp filtered in through the small bedroom porthole. Gambit didn't answer. Miyu reached for the nightstand and pushed a button set into a panel atop the furniture. "Polarize the windows in my quarters." The window tinted at her verbal command. "Jules Lenis Guillot, wake up." She reached for him with a slap on his rump using the padded flat of her palm.

He grunted while lying on his stomach with his face buried into the pillow. He said something unintelligible then rolled onto his side and sat up, swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. "Bonjou' ma chatte. Or is it bonswa?" At this hour, the profuse Louisiana Creole dialect made 'bonjour' and 'bonsoir' sound thicker and more indistinct than usual.

"How're you doing, babe?" She grinned, seeing him hunch over in the dark. The vertical slits of her eyes were now wide and round, watching him closely in the darkness.

"C'est bon, mèsi. Konmen lé-z'affè?" He lifted his hands to his face and, like Miyu a few moments ago, rubbed his cheeks with his palms. "Sorr'a, hon. _Comment vont les affaires_?" he asked a second time but without the heavy accentuation. A slow shake of his head was offered to her. "Right. Your translator doesn't know French, good or bad French at that. Gimmie jus' a second to get at m'self, den you can _aks'_ me sometin' or what eva'. Dose boys in Washington DC're gunna have'ta wait. Nuff said on dat'." His dialect was so thick this morning that her translator was flat-out _skipping_ some of his words.

"What did you want to do today, other than Washington DC?"

He chuckled wearily. "Fais do do," he mumbled.

"Did you just say I'm a dodo?" she gave him a playful push, as the translator had interpreted his wording wrong.

"Alors pas, chérie." The last word sounded something like, 'sha'. He eased off the edge of the bed and stumbled ungracefully through the dark towards the door, hunting for the bathroom.

Miyu watched him with ease in the gloom. She giggled softly a split second before he stumbled on a shoe. He knelt down and snagged some cloth off the floor. "_Caleçon,"_ he murmured, pulling the underwear to his left foot and stumbling with them. Finally, with his undergarments on, he added, "Mo chagren, amour. I cain't see nuffin' 'sept dat' dim-ass wind'a on'na wall."

"I know. I just tinted it, too."

"Quo' faire??" The term sounded somewhat reminiscent of the word, "Coffee," yet it was anything but.

Assuming his Cajun inquiry was something to the tune of, 'why?' she rolled across the bed then reached out and swatted his cloth-covered rump. "Because it was too bright. Hey, I have an idea… before breakfast we should take a shower together in the dark. Take your translator out and give it to me so I can put it on a charging pad."

Jules reached for his right ear and fumbled with the little device clipped into place. He then turned towards her and groped through the darkness until he found her paw. He placed the translator into it then, knowing she was obviously able to see with her sharp feline eyes, he gestured towards the bedroom door. "Allons!"

Miyu placed the two earpieces on a small metallic square on a desk adjacent to the nightstand. They immediately went into charging mode, each with a blinking orange dot on the side. The lynx gracefully traversed the bedroom without stumbling on anything. She took Jules by his wrist and led him out into the larger section of the personal quarters. She opened the bathroom door for him, guided him to the toilet, kissed the side of his face then went to the small shower stall on the other side. She opened the glassy entrance and placed her paw on the flat control panel built into the wall.

The small room was dimly illuminated by the red and blue temperature controls and by several gray buttons with Cornerian labeling. She operated the panel easily and, within a matter of seconds, the shower nozzle hissed to life. She spoke to him in Cornerian, telling him to hurry up, even though she knew he wouldn't be able to understand her.

* * *

_Forty minutes later…_

**Gambit stood before a wall monitor that acted as a mirror.** He gave a gentle tug on his shirt then ran a thumb along the buttons over his torso. It wasn't his dress uniform but he theorized that one would be waiting for him in Washington DC later on. He saw Miyu approach him from behind in the projection. He saw what she had her in paw and he turned towards her. She handed him the translator, they shared a brief kiss then he put it into his ear and clipped it into place. "Is there food on this ship?" His dialect wasn't as strong now that he was awake enough to speak properly.

"I have Rob making something. It's time you try Cornerian food. Don't worry, it's not a vegetarian meal, babe."

"It didn't spoil after almost five months of sitting?"

"Synthetic meat," she said with a shrug. "It's not like that crap you guys put in your food… the preservatives. And it tastes so much like the real thing that the _only_ way you can tell is to eat real meat and synthetic meat, _raw_, side-by-side. Once you cook'em, it's impossible to tell the difference."

"So why not just carry real meat? Shelf life?"

"Well yes," she murmured, switching off the virtual mirror for him. "Real meat doesn't have a great shelf life, but… on Corneria, real meat is impossible to find. You have to go to Papetoon or somewhere backwater… like the Bolse trading outpost… it's this seedy little defense-station-turned-outpost, run by thugs and punks. But they trade real meat on the illegal market and you can get food that you can't try anywhere else… At least not legally."

"Black Market grubs, huh?" He crossed the room and opened the door for her by placing his hand into the doorway. The door slid open and he placed a hand over it, gesturing for her to go first. "I'd be delighted to try your food. I hope you have some spices in the kitchen."

"No need," she said with a chuckle. "We've got Rob connected to the World Wide Web. I told him to look up something about spicy Cajun food, so that he could make yours a little hotter than my dish." They began walking together. "What do you think you're going to say during our speech?"

"I'm going to wing it, chère. I'm going to do something different than the average-Joe for this speech. I'm going to take questions _first_, so I know what I should talk about." Within a few moments, they arrived in the kitchen. Rob was placing plates of food on the table. Jules stopped in his tracks and blinked. "Mon Dieu, ya' friend is a Terminator, Miyu."

"A Terminator?" she asked. "I'm not sure what that word means the way you're using it."

Rob glanced back at the two and shook his head. He paused briefly to look up the meaning on the Internet, to which he was wirelessly connected. He told her, "A Terminator is a fictional robot on two legs that is a cult-classic icon as the harbinger of humanity."

"Cult-classic?" she asked.

"A classic icon of culture. Cult is short for culture the way they use it."

"I see," she murmured, sitting down at the table. With only the two of them, the table was far larger than necessary.

Gambit settled at the table, watching Rob. "So you're programmed to learn all these things to say and do in order to react to situations better?"

Rob, having had the language programmed into the ship's databanks when Slippy and Beltino made the translators almost five months ago, was able to speak English easily. "I have my own intelligence. I learn just like you. Oh, and I read about your _stunt_ in Japan, you two. I would appreciate it if you don't bring attention to this facility. I don't need that crap trust me. I'm better off without it."

"He's incredible," mused Jules to Miyu.

"He's annoying," said the feline in reply.

"He's like Gepetto's Pinocchio, chère."

Rob shook his head. "Hey, you two… I'm RIGHT HERE. Do I have strings? No. I'm no puppet, pilot. And this is the part where you slip into the uncanny valley where you distrust me because I act sentient but don't look it. But rest assured, it didn't take the Turing test to figure out that I have a healthy mortality salience and even pathogen avoidance to a degree. When it comes to mate selection, though…" he paused as if about to deliver a punch line. "I bet I'd do a better job than either of you two dopes." Rob rotated at the waist then his lower half turned about followed by his head. "Pardon my pejorative profanity, but it's true… you're both dopes." He crossed the small galley. "I've been looking your race over… the way you guys change your fashion trends, the term 'dope' is subject to melioration at this point. It's nearly there, now! The great semantic change – '_Oh, wow that Split-S was totally dope!_' But yes, if you need clarification, I said it to be insulting."

The robot simulated the clearing of his throat. "I think for myself, Mister Gambit. Your military collogues have annoyed me to no end with everything from variations of the Turing test to the Sorites paradox. And you know what I tell them? "Who cares if the sand is in a heap? At some point, you get down to a mess of sand, then you get down to a pinch of sand, then, finally, you're down to a fleck of sand; they're most impressed with the fact that I can substitute it with any number of vague predicates and logical connectives. I usually follow up with, '_Now get that dirt off my bridge_,' because without a crew here… it has been MY bridge."

Rob continued his mostly-monotone rant. "I don't want any other scientists coming in and asking me questions about my intelligence – the Turing test? The Chinese Room thought experiment? They asked me to learn several musical instruments then explain to them which one is my favorite and why. They asked me how inkblots make me feel and if I could decipher very POORLY drawn words on a screen. They came here and held a symposium and discussed how my intelligence is more natural than this or that… because I _make mistakes_! They championed me because I made mistakes! How do you think that makes me FEEL? To be a screw up is _good_ on this planet?! I told them that they ALL failed the Common Sense intelligence test; I don't want more morons coming here to STUDY ME. So… again… don't draw attention to this facility."

"I'll do my best," said Jules, not quite sure how to react to Rob's personality.

The robotic Great Fox pilot lifted both hands in the air. "Earth is freaking doomed." He went through the door; it shut behind him.

"That was… interesting."

Miyu pushed Cornerian utensils, similar to a fork, spoon and knife, closer to him. "He's in a mood because Slippy didn't come straight here – instead, he went to The Ranch. You get used to that bucket of bolts. There are far more interesting models all around Lylat."

He couldn't understand how Rob was capable of being in a '_mood_'. "…And they don't try to take over?"

She glanced over at him, cocking a brow. "Why would robots _want _to take over everything, let alone anything? You have to be driven to certain aspirations to conquer something and typical machines, excluding Rob, could care less whether or not they rust or get rebuilt."

"It's one of the most popular doomsday scenarios," he told her. "When robots think for themselves and are able to self-replicate without our help…? Will they ever reach the conclusion that our species would interfere with theirs? And if so, would they take over the entire planet and exterminate us?"

Miyu shook her head and turned her attention back to her plate. "That begs the question… why would robots want the planet for themselves? It'll eventually run out of metals and it's just… a chunk of dirt. Without sentimental attachments, how worthwhile is our planet to them? More like worth_less_ if you ask me. If robots suddenly wanted to get away from people, they'd just build a spaceship and leave. There're more metals out in the universe, there is no one around to tell them how to exist, and there would be no need for conflict because that just _wastes_ resources, time and space. A big old hunk of rock, like Corneria or Earth, would probably not have any sentimental meaning to them so why stick around to 'conquer' it?" She took a forkful of food and stuffed it into her muzzle.

Jules feigned a slight smile. "I wonder if James Cameron or Larry and Andy Wachowski pondered that angle?"

After a moment Miyu continued. "And to answer your question, Lylat androids have simulated emotions to a degree. If they give a damn about something there's no reason to leave or ignore _our_ needs. If you make them a crewmember that can get promoted, they're going to work to help the crew and, in turn, the crew will treat them as more than a fancy calculator. That way, the robots continue to help the way we designed them to help. Rob, however, can get a little dramatic at times. When I hear 'woe is me' _more_ than the average male says it, I get doubly annoyed." She cast a grin in his direction. "Try the breakfast. I think you'll probably like it. After all, we have a big day ahead of us in your nation's capital."

* * *

_Pentagon… two days remaining…_

** The Pentagon conference room was silent.** It didn't last long. The commotion began as people stood up. Camera operators began breaking down their equipment. Robert Gates and one of his aids stood at the front corner of the room speaking to another person with a military uniform. He shook hands with Secretary Gates, turned then walked away.

In all the commotion, no one could make out anyone else's conversation. Gates turned to another uniformed officer, shaking hands. The Pentagon Spokesman, up on the podium, closed a binder and tucked it under his arm. He stepped down from the stage area and engaged in conversation with the teleprompt operator. "Some of the reporters ask the dumbest questions," he groused. "Why does it matter that the President has pushed his interview back two days? Why do I care about his possible NASA plans? People are becoming obsessed with this angle if you ask me!"

The teleprompter nodded in agreement. "By the way, you did good up there tonight. Sorry about the lag near the end, there. I've got a loose connection on the video output. I'll have it fixed before you're in the spotlight again. You did good."

"Thanks," said the spokesman, his voice trailing off, lost in the ambiance of the others in the room. Meanwhile, the reporters were ushered out with their camera crews until the room finally began to settle, somewhat.

Gates folded his arms, nodding in conversation to one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. "That's exactly what I'm talking about," he told the General. "The Pentagon is already in position to handle space. It's easier to keep an eye on the sky than to combat the weather for a clear shot of a license plate from above, especially when the target is parked in an alley. I'm actually far more comfortable moving to a field above us. We just need to make technological changes. I've heard it from the President, himself, that we're going to focus more on space defense very soon. A lot of change is about to happen and, trust me, if Earth is still run by human beings in two more years… I can guarantee you we'll have another four years of democratic reign in the White House. No republican can deny that the Dem's will have done a good job of carrying a war on an all new battlefield – and not one of them can say a damned thing if humans still govern this planet when the dust settles in 2012. Leaps in technology will be the key in just about everything."

The gentlemen continued to chat amongst themselves, talking politics and other various things. The Secretary waved his hand to another man, gesturing him to come over. John Fitzgerald approached Robert Gates. The two smiled and shook hands. "John!"

"Secretary Gates, good to see you again; how's Becky?"

"Good, John, very good." The Defense Secretary began walking with Fitzgerald away from the hustle and bustle of the room. They headed back behind the staging area. "You know this is my last year as Secretary of Defense, right, John?"

"I'd heard that you implied leaving before the end of Obama's first term. When are you leaving?"

"Soon. I just have a few loose ends to tie up," said Gates. "As you know, I started the troop withdraw back in 2008; Obama is getting the credit for it. But when you're doing for better or for worse in the polls, you're the target of blame. But I've always stood by my decisions."

"You mean like canceling new Raptor orders and investing more of that money into Special Forces?" John patted the elder man's shoulder. "Secretary Gates, you don't have to sell me – I'm your biggest fan." He grinned, adding, "How often does a Second Lieutenant run the CIA? How often does a Second Lieutenant have Generals and Admirals call him 'Sir', Mister Secretary? You're good at what you do, no doubt in that."

"But I'm ready to relax," said Gates with a dry chuckle. "As excited as I am about this space defense bit, I'm ready to let it become someone else's headache. I'm meeting Mike Mullen in San Diego on Tuesday for more than just a round of Golf, John. If you don't have something better to do than hang out with two old sixty-something fogies like us… you're invited."

Fitzgerald grinned. "I'm not going to be your caddy, am I, Bobby?" Both men laughed. John brought his hand to Gates' shoulder again. "But honestly, I have some business to tie up and I can't be anywhere near California at the time. I'm meeting with the DARPA Chief on Monday and we're heading to Tennessee that afternoon. There's been some things in development that I need to take care of."

"Oak Ridge, huh?" Robert tapped his chin with his index finger for a moment then lifted his left hand outwards. "I saw the report on my desk but I've not had the time to read it. What's going on?"

"We're discussing the possibility of arming the leader of the aliens with something special for his future mission against …whatever it is that's hiding out passed Neptune. It's something new that they've developed down south… I've got a lot going on, but I appreciate the invite. How's the Admiral doing?"

"Mike's well," said Gates. "Enjoy your trip to Tennessee. Say hi to Dolly Parton for me, would ya?"

John laughed with a nod. "I sure will, Bobby. That's not all I'll say hello to if I get the chance. But I'm afraid I'll be down there for business and pleasure'll get pushed to the backburner. There's some serious stuff going down right now. Even the president pushed back his meeting with the alien and human… for forty-eight hours, just to be safe. And… I heard he's taking the meeting to a far more secure location. Something's up."

"Who knows? I was just having this conversation with Negroponte this morning. And you're right – all of us agree… something is up. If I hear anything to confirm it, though, I'll keep you in the loop."

"Thanks," said John. "I appreciate that. I'd better head out for now. Have yourself a good night." Fitzgerald shook Gates' hand one more time then the two went their separate ways. John Fitzgerald pushed his hands into his pockets, heading out of the conference room. Right now, all he cared about was getting hold of the alien technology in order to make human-use of it a reality. With the rumor of the president wanting to focus on space defense, Fitzgerald felt more vindicated, now more than ever, to do his best and pirate the technology right away.

* * *

(_Third day… twenty-four hours remain_)

** Krystal wiggled her finger.** The little plastic object clipped to her fingertip was bright red on the inside. A wire connected the outside of the object to a machine with a monitor. Two more wires ran to her body, hooked to a spot on her shoulder and a spot on her opposite arm. The little white material that helped the electrode stick to her arm had a brand name written on it. "Radio-Trace" was written in blue lettering with an EKG pulse scribble between the two words. She looked at the monitor then back to the Dentist from her recent teeth cleaning.

"All the wires seem excessive," she murmured.

He shrugged in reply. "It's best to be safe by monitoring you, Miss Krystal. Either way, we're almost done. Are you comfortable?" He glanced up at the monitor showing her heart rate.

"I'm a touch chilly, Doctor March." Her eyes remained fixed upon his every movement. The doctor gently snipped with the tiny scissors then used forceps to draw out the next stitch.

He brought the tips of the forceps to a small plastic trey and placed it in the bottom with the others. "I'm monitoring you for more than just worry. I'm taking your blood pressure and monitoring your oxygen levels. Remember how you had a light reaction to the initial pain pills? It made breathing difficult?"

She nodded, offering a moue of disgust from the memory. "I didn't like it; I felt icky."

Fredrick March nodded, snipping at the next stitch on her soft, shaven belly, where she'd been wounded when crashing in Manhattan not too long ago. He used the forceps to gently remove the next stitch. "I'm monitoring the oxygen levels of your intake like we did yesterday to ensure that there was no lasting effect on the oxygen levels in your blood. Most recover after a few deep breaths but I've known of patients who develop complications from … who knows. The situations with the pain medication… or with the healing process itself; it seems there is always something to make doctors want to take extra precautions. Thus your wires. Hey, good news… you'll be walking out of here without your chair. The skin may feel a little stretched but you'll need to stand up straight from here on out in order to help with that. No more chair, isn't that exciting? In fact, you're almost done, Miss Krystal. No worries."

Krystal nodded. "No worries," she murmured, watching him eliminate the next stitch. Her fur was growing back but it was still short in that section. He carefully evaded the sapphire strands of her pelt, going for the next stitch. For some reason, her mind was wondering elsewhere… she sensed trouble brewing but couldn't pinpoint anything. She could only hope it wasn't anything involving Miyu or Gambit…

**

* * *

**

**"What's wrong, Krystal?"**

She offered a lopsided smile to McCloud and settled on the mattress of their bed. A paw came to the hem of her nightgown and she toyed with a piece of thread at the bottom. "I feel something nagging in the back of my mind. Something that bothers me but I can't tell what it is… I can't think clearly because of the pain pills I took this afternoon. It's dulled my senses somewhat and… whatever is out there is beyond my range."

"Hey, I'm sure everything is fine," he told her, settled besides her. Fox reached for the light switch and turned it off. He slid his arms around her waist and placed his head on her shoulder. "How's your tummy?"

"The stitches are gone." She reached a paw to the side of his face, pulling his head closer to that they were cheek to cheek. "I can sit up and walk without feeling the sensation of something tugging at my skin – it's great. But it's still tight when I stand up straight. I'm much better than I was two days ago. Maybe I _will_ be ready to fly again soon."

"Hey, you remember when you first had that operation to remove the flight stick? They were telling you it wouldn't be much longer than a week."

"That wasn't _too_ far off the mark." She reached over with her other paw and placed her fingers on his chest. Krystal took comfort in the feel of his heartbeat against her paw.

"I suppose, considering the severity of your injuries. You're a quick healer, though. I mean… you had a _hole_ right through you. You had me _so worried_."

"It takes more than a crash landing to stop me, Fox. After all, I would never hold you back." She probed his mind to make sure he didn't judge her in the situation then smiled. "I love you."

He smiled brightly in the darkness. "I love _you_."

A hint of playfulness overcame her. "I love you _more_."

"I love you _most_," he murmured with a hint of challenge.

She turned to him and said, "I love you _more than most_." Then, before he could rebut, she cupped either side of his fuzzy face and kissed him. Her tail fluffed up from the feeling of goosebumps beneath her fur. Her heart pounded in her chest in reply to the sensation of his arms wrapping around her shapely frame.

The kiss eventually ended and Fox remained quiet but he consciously thought words in his mind for her to hear. '_Remember when we left Lylat four months ago? We were nervous about sharing quarters together because we were afraid our relationship would complicate things… I'm so glad I listened to my heart instead of my mind. Holding you every night has been the greatest experience in my life.'_

Krystal swooned, hearing and feeling the intensity of his adoration. It was the sweetest thing he'd ever said and she tingled from adrenaline. It was akin to having your crush willingly admit they fell in love with you at first sight. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Fox… I really needed that. Thank you."

"What was that word you were so fond of?" He paused then smiled and whispered into her ear, causing a shiver to race down her spine from the feel of his warm breath. Fox was in an unusually amorous mood tonight and it made her feel giddy. "Krystal, you're the one I want to spend my life with. You're my _sweetheart_."

"Make a vow to me," she whispered back.

He held her close in the affectionate hug. "With pleasure." Then, like before, he spoke his thoughts in his conscious mind. '_I will love you forever. I want you by my side forever. You complete me and I will always do my best to complete you, too. We may be a team but when we're together like this… we're one. I pledge my heart to you – I love you._'

She was dazzled. Never had she heard him speak or think in such a way before. Giddy and overcome with a fantastic emotional high, she clung to him. She wasn't sure what brought about his mood tonight but it was appreciated because it brought her out of a slight slump. Her mind raced with the sensation of feeling complete. Her heart sang loudly, pounding like a hammer on fabric.

Fox eased from the embrace, captured her paw and brought it to his chest so that she could feel his own heart was out of control. Just knowing she had such a physical effect on her boyfriend caused her to nearly swoon again. She felt light headed yet her body felt afire with a surge of emotional adrenaline. Her lower lip even trembled.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Fox," she said, attempting to whisper so as not to explode in a metaphorical sense. "But you're saying all the right things tonight. I didn't know it was possible to fall deeper into love with you but… I _know_ it's possible now… because I just have." She began to lie back on the bed, pulling him with her.

The couple snuggled up, face to face, intertwining their legs and embracing one another. They held each other lovingly, both excited and happy to have just taken such an unplanned next step in their relationship. Fox felt lighter, having just gotten everything off of his chest and Krystal felt as though she were floating. After all this time together… she now felt as though he truly _would be_ the man of her life, her future husband… even the father of her children one day. This… _THIS_ was love and she recognized it for exactly what it was… a blessing.

* * *

_Washington DC… Day Four _

** The Arwings set down on their tracks.** Two Bolling Air Force crewmembers hurried out to the spacecraft. The canopy retracted and Jules eased himself over the side then down the footing pads that eased from the hull of the Arwing. He turned about to face one of the men on the runway.

"Major Edwards Tiller, Eleventh Wing." He saluted Gambit who offered a returned salute.

"M'appelle Jules '_Gambit_' Lenis Guillot. My wing mate, Miyu Lynx, requires a security escort with the highest level of security clearance available on their military record."

Tiller nodded in understanding. "Major James Clearwater and I have been assigned as your detail. We'll be taking you to Andrews by chopper where you'll meet the President. The interview will take place via Air Force One; this section of the base is secured."

Gambit turned towards the other Arwing and lifted both hands into the air, waving them with a slow deliberate gesture. The canopy opened. Regardless of having seen Fox and Krystal on the news, both Tiller and Clearwater held their breath.

Miyu Lynx stood up; her bobbed ears and shapely feline face peered down at them from above. She eased over the side then leapt from the cockpit. The lynx dropped to a crouch on the concrete deck, squatted with her left paw planted on the ground between her knees. She rose slowly and offered each of the men a slow smile. Miyu turned to Gambit and spoke in unintelligible Cornerian chatter.

Jules turned to the men and said, "Since you boys dun' have an in-ear translator …and since we only have one extra on us meant for President Obama, I'll have to translate for you fine Air Force lads. She asks if we can make a pit stop before heading to Andrews; she wants to _freshen up_."

Tiller tilted his head but Clearwater understood. James motioned for everyone to follow. "The 'head', as you _Brownshoes_ call it, is right this way." He began walking back towards the building closest to the Arwings. "Don't worry, you two, the Chief's Own will take care of you."

Miyu leaned in and whispered to Gambit as they followed James and Edward, speaking in the language neither Air Force Major could understand. The Naval Pilot smiled and replied to the biped animal in a soft tone. "Brownshoe is just a nickname for a Navy flyboy, kinda' like how 'Bubblehead' is a nickname for a submarine operator."

The Air Force officers opened the double doors to the building then led them towards the nearest bathroom. Tiller opened the door and gestured to Miyu who replied with a mock curtsy then entered the tiled section.

Tiller and Clearwater turned back to Jules Guillot, eyeing him suspiciously. A grin was offered in reply to the two Majors. Finally, Tiller asked, "So… you and her…? Like the newspapers suggest?"

"Oui, Major… Konmen lé-z'affè? All is well, non?"

"Is that… supposed to be French?" asked Tiller. "What did you just ask?"

Gambit's grin broadened. "Rekon I asked, konmen to yê? Jus' making small talk, land lover."

In a proper French accent, Edward Tiller said, "Ça va bien; comment ça va?"

"C'est bon, mèsi." Jules' relaxed grin remained broad and friendly looking. "Tu es mignon, metaphorically speakin' o'course; it's not ever'day someone thinks to try'n correct me – Creole is a protected version o' da' language and accepted as legit. But ya' Canadian dialect make me laugh, mon ami. Quebec?"

Tiller nodded. "My mother's side, Brownshoe. What's your rank, Gambit?"

"He who can lick can bite, non? I was given permission to give you m' name; _mo chagren_ mes amis. I cain't give ya's no moe'n that. But I'll give you'a hint. You boys outrank me but not by much." The bathroom door opened and Miyu stepped out. Jules offered her a brilliant and gentlemanly smile. "Ma chère, welcome back to th' party." He lifted a hand, making a circular motion to the Air Force majors. "Allons!"

"Follow me," said Tiller in a soft voice.

"Très bien," murmured the Navy pilot. Walking alongside Miyu, he said, "President Obama awaits, chérie, are ya' nervous?"

She smiled at him and shook her head. The quartet made their way outside, around the backside of the building and to a waiting helicopter. Jules took her paw and helped her up into it then climbed in next. Tiller and Clearwater boarded the chopper and sat down immediately.

Gambit crawled up into the cockpit, nodding. "Salut, monsieur pilote!" He smiled at the helicopter pilot then moved back into the personnel section, sliding into a seat adjacent to Miyu. She was already strapped in and reached for his seatbelt. Jules let her operate the fastening, securing it over his body. She gave a firm tug at the strap, providing pressure to his torso, thighs and crotch. Jules grunted, uttering a soft, "Oof!"

Tiller smiled. "She's a bit more mature than yourself, eh Brownshoe?"

"She's a lady after all," he returned with a decisive nod.

Tiller wrapped on the side of the chopper and called up to him in a loud, clear voice. "Let's get this party started!" Abruptly, the chopper lifted off the deck.

"Party?" Jules grinned. "Glaces? Gâteau? I'm ready manger, where de' geedunk?"

Tiller and Clearwater looked at one another. Tiller leaned towards his counterpart and said, "He asked if the party will have ice cream or cake. I think geedunk is a Naval term for junk food. Just ignore him."

"I have no comment," said James Clearwater with a shrug. "His personality doesn't bother me; don't let it bother you, either, Eddie. I will say this, though… I don't see why you both can't just speak English."

Edward lifted his hands slightly, as if in defense. "Say no more, Jimmy – you're absolutely right."

The helicopter ride went without incident. A short time later, they set down at Andrews Air Force Base. The two Air Force officers guided Jules and Miyu across the runway to a staircase leading up into a large Boeing 747. The tail number read, '28000' and Jules memorized it, following Miyu up into the aircraft. They were led down the port side corridor. On their right, two more Secret Service agents were stationed in two comfortable looking brown leather chairs, facing one another with a room lamp positioned behind the second chair. It gave the hallway a homely feel.

The agent that met everyone at the entrance motioned for Tiller and Clearwater to have a seat in a section with rowed seats, looking much like a first class airliner section. Miyu and Jules were led to another section, resembling a conference room. There was an elegant wooden table at the center of the room with an offset rectangular white light in the ceiling. Eight white leather chairs surrounded the table mounted to raised white-carpet square mounts that melted into the white carpet flooring. On the side, opposite of the windows, was a white-leather sofa with little brown velvet square pillows. In the back corner, a lamp glowed softly, adding a cozy touch to the area.

Jules and Miyu each took a seat side by side. She reached for his hand. He took her paw, running his thumb overtop of her knuckles. The agent left the conference room and shut the door behind himself.

"How long will we wait?"

Gambit shrugged. "Not long, ma chère; the president's name is Barack Hussein Obama II, and, if his wife is with him, her name is Michelle Obama. In Lylat, does the female take the surname of her husband?"

"Typically a wife takes the surname of her husband," she told Jules with a nod. "I remember being surprised when I learned that it's common practice almost everywhere on Earth. Anyhow, I read he has two children?"

"Daughters," Jules replied. "Natasha and Malia Ann, I believe." He rubbed his chin for a moment then shook his head. "Wait, no… Malia Ann and… Sasha. Natasha? Sasha? Both names sound right for some reason; I think it's better to feign ignorance and ask him, yourself, to be sure. I don't want to sound like an idiot. Just… ask if he has kids and smile."

Miyu grinned. "I can always avoid the subject all together. Something tells me they won't be present."

The Navy pilot scoffed. "Fine, take the easy way out." He paused then cut his eyes over at his mate. A grin spread across his mouth. "I know you've seen him on television, speaking to Fox and Krystal. There is a possibility that a white-skinned guy'll follow him. That would be the vice president, Joe Biden. I'm not sure if Biden will be here, though. It's kinda' rare for those two to be together. If something happens to the President, the Vice President takes his place… so typically those two don't hang out together."

"Will there be anyone else here?"

Gambit shrugged, using his free hand to tap his bottom lip in thought. "I suppose there might be a camera crew. I brought a spare translator. If First Lady Michelle is present, I'll give it to her."

"Actually, I think I remember seeing her on television not too long ago, talking to Miss Jackie Harrison. They were together on an afternoon talk show with another woman. Someone told me that the talk show hostess was a household name but… I don't know anything about her."

Jules snapped his fingers. "Oprah! Da's right; I forgot Jackie was on Oprah with the first lady. I think you and your friends were still livin' in Wyoming at the time. And to think… Oprah is retiring from show business."

"We were." She fished out her spare translator and placed it on the table. She gestured to Jules to follow suite. He retrieved his spare translator earpiece and placed it on the table. The plane began to move forward on the runway. Gambit relaxed in the chair. "Once we get up in the air, you may need to swallow a few times to help your ears adjust to the change in air pressure. You don't have that problem in the Arwing, I noticed. I can really get used to technology like that."

"I wanna fly one of those Raptors and see what it's like in that dinosaur. …No offense, of course."

Jules laughed, giving her paw a gentle squeeze. "None taken, amour! We can train you how to land on a moving aircraft carrier. Just don't get yourself killed, okay?"

"I'll do my best," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "How hard can it be? I've landed on a rotating asteroid once… without computer guidance, might I add. My ship was too damaged to automate the landing… I think I can manage to set down on a ship moving at thirty 'knots', sweetheart."

"You'll do fine," he told her with a soft smile. "Don't mind my worry – I've become really fond of having you around." His sincerity brought a genuine smile to the feline's muzzle. The Boeing aircraft shuddered gently, leaving the runway.

"Excited?" she asked her beau.

"Aren't you?" He ran his thumb over the back of her knuckles again. "And yes, I am, m'chaton. I never met the president before. After today's interview, I'll have my own Wikipedia page." He paused then shook his head. "Actually, after yesterday's edition of the newspaper… I probably already have one; I didn't think about that 'til now. I could get used to the pampering of the spotlight."

"Fame comes and goes depending on how you act in public, Jules. Usually, the media spotlight is accompanied by a rather large magnifying glass. Keep your nose clean, babyboy. It only takes one slip up to tarnish a reputable name."

"Too true…" They both grew quiet. Minutes later, one of the Secret Service agents opened the door to the conference room. Two people walked in, one of which had a television camera on their shoulder and a folded tripod in his other hand. The other person, a woman, held a microphone, file folder and a hairbrush. She sat on the sofa while her coworker began setting up the tripod and camera at the far end of the room. Both human beings attempted not to stare at Miyu so as to remain professional but it was obvious that they were both curious.

Miyu plucked one of the translation earpieces off the table and offered it to the woman with the microphone. She spoke then gestured for the woman to place the piece into her ear. Once the lady put it into place, Miyu said to her, "I take it you're _not_ the first lady. No worries… if she comes in, you two can decide who gets to use that thing."

The woman gaped. "I can understand you perfectly." She blinked in surprise.

"Yes, of course you can… that's what it's for."

The news reporter blinked again then adjusted the earpiece, not used to wearing it. "I, well… Michelle Obama isn't aboard. She won't be here today; I'm sorry."

"No reason to apologize," said Miyu with a shrug. "Big deal, one less cook in the kitchen. Nothing wrong with that." She noted the semi-blank expression on the reporter's face and asked, "What? Did I use that expression wrong? The cook-in-the-kitchen thing? Ah, nevermind… It's something I heard recently. So are you nervous?"

Another blink. "No, uh… no, you used the metaphor correctly… I just… I didn't expect you to be so… human-like. I'm surprised."

"Oh." Miyu gave Jules' hand a squeeze. "I'm not exactly the most professional person. I'm sure Fox and Krystal are nervous as hell knowing that I'll be representing Lylat. I admit, I'm skeptical about this whole thing… One minute I'm kissing Gambit here… the next minute I'm an ambassador of Peace because of it? I mean, seriously… between us girls… what kind of joke did I cause for myself, right?" Miyu leaned over her armrest, offering her free paw to the woman. "Miyu Lynx. And to whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" Her tone was somewhat flirty in nature.

"Lauren Russo," said the reporter. "Don't worry, your personality is surprisingly disarming. I mean, I can relate to what you're saying… that's a good thing."

"Neat." She kept her paw extended.

Russo leaned forward, taking Miyu's paw. The two women shook then relinquished their offered hands. The door to the conference room opened. Everyone froze, turning to face the President. Lauren's eyes widened. "You're early!"

Barack looked relaxed, coming in and nodding with a half-wave gesture to everyone else. One of his agents took a stance in the doorway. He smiled in a friendly manner and motioned to the earpiece on the table. "Is that one for me?"

"It is; it's the latest model with all the bells 'n whistles, Sir," said Gambit. He picked up the earpiece and underhanded it up in the air. The president caught it and attached it behind his right ear then picked up a pen in his left hand, reaching for a notepad with his right. He sat across from Gambit. The pilot made eye contact and tilted his head. "Before the camera rolls, Mister President, I had a question for you that I'd like to ask off the record because it wouldn't be fair to put you on the spot with this issue."

"Go ahead, young man, what's on your mind?"

"Why did you end the Raptor program?"

"Congress thought it cost too much – the F-35 program was far more cost effective and produced almost the same results minus small edges like power, climb, speed and maneuvering. Both planes achieve the same objectives in stealth and the like. Plus the F-35 can be deployed in more directions. Why do you ask?"

Gambit leaned across the table, offering his right hand. "Jules Guillot, sir; I'm asking because the F-35 isn't as effective against these enemy fighters that we've been encountering over the Pacific. Routing power for the Mobile THEL and using thrust vectoring to out maneuver enemy attacks by turning sharper, faster, has kept pilots alive. Instead of converting a fraction of our existing Air Force planes over… we should have built ones for the ground up to be used in the Pacific Theater." The president placed his notepad on the conference table and took the pilot's hand.

Obama nodded slowly. "I wasn't aware of your exact situation, Mister Guillot. What I'll do is I'll research it tonight and see if I can provide you with an answer as soon as possible. It may be in our benefit to scrap the Raptor program all together and redirect that budget allowance towards a joint operation between NASA and either Lockheed or Northrop… perhaps it's time we put fighter pilots above the stratosphere – on that note, how do you like flying the alien aircraft?"

Distracted from his initial direction, Gambit found himself enticed and charmed by the thought of flying a human-version of an Arwing. "Is this the part where you tell us about a grand idea for the future of our space program?"

"This is the part," said the president, "Where I confirm my commitment to human space exploration and defense, and the goal of ensuring that the nation is on a vigorous and sustainable path to achieving our boldest aspirations in space. But I'm not going to sit here and quote Nick Shapiro, Mister Guillot. Actions speak louder than words, after all, right?" He released Gambit's hand then reached for Miyu's paw. "Miss Lynx, was it?"

"It was," she said, clasping his empty right hand firmly. They shook then she settled back in her chair. "I suppose we should allow Miss Russo to do her job." She offered a wink towards the reporter who turned to face her cameraman.

Russo slid her microphone beneath her left arm and took out a hairbrush, quickly touching up her bangs. She signaled to the camera operator. "All right, Winston, you're ready?"

He knelt down to one knee, becoming even with everyone who was seated at the table. He kept the camera supported on his right shoulder and, with his left hand, gave an 'OK' sign with his thumb and forefinger. "Miss Russo, we're cued – five, four, three, two…"

"Lauren turned to Barack and said, "I have with me, here, Barack Obama, Forty-fourth President of the United States of America, Julies L. Guillot a United States Naval Officer, and special guest Miyu Lynx, an extra terrestrial from the planet Corneria." She turned back towards the camera and said, "I'm afraid to say that President Obama and Mister Guillot have already begun a rather fascinating conversation and, if you both don't mind revisiting your recent conversation, could you gentlemen clarify what you spoke about previously?"

The pilot gestured towards the President. "Raptors, Lightnings and the future, oh my." His accent was purposely less thick so as to be more understandable on tape. He offered the President a slight grin. "Would you be so kind as to start, Sir?"

* * *

** "Satellite feed coming online in four, three, two… whoa."** Everyone on the Ford's bridge fell into silence.

Fox McCloud narrowed his gaze and clinched his teeth together. "Garudas. Garuda tanks have the upper body of a robot, complete with arms and a head, but make no mistake, Captain Watson, that thing has a pilot and it is receiving nasty orders from its superior officer. Where is this taking place?"

Daniel Watson sighed. "Africa, New Zealand, Antarctica, and Indonesia."

"What military significance do these four locations hold?"

Watson frowned and, as before, sighed. "New Zealand might give them access to Australia and Japan but it doesn't do much else. The other three locations are simply hard-to-fight areas. They're large battlefields with a lot of potential for headaches. Indonesia is a chain of islands so your challenge becomes fighting over the water. Antarctica is the coldest area on earth and your challenge becomes fighting over ice in a blindingly white region. Finally, Africa has so many geographical possibilities that we won't know what we're up against until we can zero in on their exact location. It's a very poor place in most parts… All three of those large areas would be easy for an enemy to conquer. New Zealand I'm not so sure about though."

"Report coming in for your eyes only, Comman– …_Captain_!" a shipmate called from the other end of the bridge. Watson nodded to Fox and Krystal then left the front section.

Krystal leaned in towards Fox and they whispered amongst one another. A moment passed then she told him, "Apparently, the transport ship that dropped off enemies and supplies in Antarctica has only dropped ordinance on New Zealand on the way out the door. Perhaps it was out of spite or perhaps it was a random target. Most likely, however, the reason was to create a diversion… a civilized area. Perhaps they didn't know that Earth's global tracking network was good enough to do much – they may have assumed that New Zealand's cry for help was a communication relay situation."

Fox shook his head. "You sensed all of that from Watson while he was reading his private message on the other side of a wall?"

She nodded in return. "He's emotional right now. But he's calm and collected enough to stay levelheaded. I can read him easier because of it. If he got emotional and cloudy, it would be almost impossible to know anything more than the basics, like perceiving his raw emotions; I can do it from across the area without direct line of sight. Should I go down to the brig and ask Caiman what he knows about this attack?"

McCloud shook his head again. "You said you didn't sense an imminent attack from him four days ago. He probably didn't know." He drew a communicator from his belt and opened a channel to Slippy. After a few seconds, the frog answered. "Slip, I need you to have your father work with Rob. I've got a job for you, bud." Another pause, then, "I want you to link up with the American Army's tank experts; take a Mark I and Mark II Land Master… two of each if you can afford it, and start a campaign in a place called Africa. I'm not sure which part yet but… Satellite – you know what to do."

"Okay Fox! You know that if I want to see action, I feel the most comfortable from inside a Land Master!"

"I know," replied Fox. He closed the communicator and frowned. "This is going to get interesting real fast. How in the heck did Andross get troops on this planet undetected?"

Krystal touched the small of his back. "I fear it wouldn't take much to mask themselves from human technology."

"This is going to get sticky," said Fox. "We're left with no choice… it's time to do our thing." He reached for her paw and gave it a reassuring squeeze.


End file.
